


Born in Heaven

by AllonsyJawn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Soldiers, Family, Gen, Heaven, Human Experimentation, Hybrids, Mean Naomi (Supernatural), Soldier Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-23 15:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllonsyJawn/pseuds/AllonsyJawn
Summary: Naomi and the other angels want an army capable of taking down the most powerful hunters on Earth, so they come up with a plan. By stealing the DNA of powerful hunters and the grace of powerful angels, they create hybrids to use as soldiers. Sabriel Winchester is not interested in being a soldier, and he's willing to fight for a normal life for himself and his new family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’ve had this plot in my head for a long while now, it was inspired by that tumblr post that has the pictures of what Gabriel and Sam’s son would look like, and the Dean and Castiel’s. This will definitely have multiple chapters, and they will eventually meet Dean and Sam. There will probably be some Destiel (the ship itself) because I can’t stop myself, but probably nothing explicit because that’s not my style. Thanks all, R and R.

I remember being born. My mind exploded into being and consciousness all at once. I was nothing, nowhere, and then suddenly I was me. The table below me was cold to the touch and I was naked. Hands grabbed at my face as I struggled to learn how to breathe.

A bright penlight shone in my eyes and I winced. I heard the first voice of my life tutt at me in disgust.

“Kind of a scrawny thing, isn’t he?” the tall woman asked. Her chestnut hair was in a tight bun behind her youthful face. She smiled at me...was that meant to comforting? I suspected she thought it was, but I shrank back away from her.

“We suspect he will grow significantly, Ma’am. Donor One was a small child but gained a lot of mass later in life.”

“How long will that take? The others are small as well; I need soldiers not Boy Scouts.”

“We estimate we’ve accelerated development twelvefold, so they should progress at the rate of about one year per month. I’d estimate their starting age at about seven or eight, physically. It may be even faster for the archangel hybrids.”

“Can it understand me?”

The other man pushed his glasses up his nose, but I knew he did not need them. These are angels, some instinct whispered to me. These are just angels in vessels. “I don’t see how he could Ma’am. They have no life before being animated. Language takes time to learn, even if he is as smart as the others.”

He was wrong, I understood everything they said. Meaning was lost on me, but I knew all of these words, and I was trying to put them together as quickly as I could. I felt that if I wanted to I could open my mouth as well, make the same sounds and try to express what I was feeling, but I chose not to. I did not trust the smiling woman, and I cringed as she touched my face and my hair.

“He has the hunter’s hair. And we’re positive we couldn’t use Lucifer?”

“We do not have a sample of his grace, and trying to acquire it now would mean having to send one of our own into the pit. That would be a suicide mission.”

“So?”

The male angel looked uncomfortable. “Well, it would also alert Crowley that we needed Lucifer’s DNA. That sort of information is very dangerous in the wrong hands. They would probably assume we were trying to clone him or make a child, and that would send the...it would put hunters on high alert I mean.”

The woman sighed and nodded her agreement. “Fine. An archangel is an archangel.” She got very close to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, Number 5. My name is Naomi, and I am your aunt, and soon to be your general. You’re special, little one.”

The other man cleared his throat. “I was meaning to mention that, Ma’am. I hope you don’t mind but… we’ve been naming them.”

“Naming them?” she asked, more confusion than disgust on her face. “Why bother?”

“They are children, after all,” he shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “It seemed appropriate to give them names. Besides, it helps to remind us which child came from which sample because we’ve just been combining the names of their donors.”

“Then what is this one called?”

“Following the pattern, this one would be called Sabriel Winchester.”

She pursed her lips. “Drop the last names. They are unnecessary. I give my permission for first names, if you insist”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“When will training begin?”

“Immediately,” he assured her.

She tossed clothing at me, plain blue pants and a long white shirt. Her rigid arms circled around me tightly in what I knew logically was a hug, but it felt like a warning. “We’re going to be very good friends, Sabriel. Just be a good soldier, and you will make us all so proud of you.”

I hated her. I let her think I did not understand that she wanted me to hug her back. I was not sure exactly what a soldier was, but I knew I’d never be one. Not for her.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

There was not a moment of our day that was not scheduled and supervised. I was allowed eight hours of sleep in my cell. They called it our ‘quarters’, but it was just a bed enclosed by white walls on all sides with a door that locked from the outside. Even while we slept, two guards stood outside of each of our cells. I was not sure if they were to keep us in or everyone else out, and no one bothered to tell me.

At 7 AM we were taken from our quarters to showers and given another set of the same clothes to wear. There were always at least two angels in sharp suits guiding me, or guarding me, I never found out which. 

At 7:30 I was taken to the white room I spent most of my time in. There was a wide mirror on the far wall that I knew they could see me through, and a chair on either side of the metal table. Sometimes there was someone inside with me, but usually I was alone. When I sat down first thing in the morning there were always two plates in front of me. The first plate always had something leafy and fresh, and the second always had something sweet. The first time I’d seen the choices I’d had a bite of both of them, curious to try as many new things as my captors and creators would allow. There were gaps in this knowledge I had been born with, and the names of foods were part of them. What I did know was the sweet dish had hurt my teeth and stung as I chewed, so I didn’t have it again. I assumed they would stop giving me the sweet option, but it was there every meal time - something sweet and something healthy. I assumed it was some kind of experiment, but I wasn’t interested in giving them data to work with.

At 8 my speech therapy began. The angel who had been present when I was born, or Kiraman as I had come to know him, sat with me in the room with flashcards and tried to get me to understand language and speech. I spent the two hours each day with a dazed look on my face, pretending I could not understand his lessons. I knew I could speak to him if I wanted, though I had never attempted to talk. I was certain that there were microphones everywhere and that even if I whispered in my quarters, they would know. Kiraman was kind, I suppose, but I never forgot that he reported to Naomi, and therefore he couldn’t be trusted.

At 10 I was shuffled off to combat trainings. This was one of the few things they had us all together for. There were five of us at first. The oldest was Anraziel, a girl I thought looked to be about fifteen years old the first time I saw her. Mamuel was after her, and I knew he was special like me because one of his donors had been an archangel. They never spoke about the names of the donors, I supposed they didn’t want us to question where they were or why we were not allowed to see them. In fact I didn’t know if the others even wanted to know. Without being able to speak to them I had no way of knowing how they felt about our lives in captivity. Did they even understand that we were prisoners? 

Our combat trainer was Maalik, and I despised him. It was his job to teach us how to survive, but this often meant just pushing us toward each other with weapons and screaming to fight or be punished. Rumandriel and Leeriel were only a little bigger than me, created only weeks before, and they always matched them up to fight. I was small in the beginning, but they always put me up against Mamuel anyway. He showed no mercy, and I was often close to dead by the end of our bouts. One of the angels would come over and heal me, and then we would begin again. This was the one area I had no control in. I had to learn how to fight to make the pain stop, even if that was what they had wanted me to do all along. I fought back, day after day, and it took longer and longer for him to beat me to unconsciousness.

After I made another choice between sugar and greens, they would throw us in a room together with puzzles and weapons and let us ‘bond’. I imagined they wanted us to socialize with each other and become some close-knit team, but we did not. I could not speak to them and maintain the ruse that I was too stupid to speak, so I remained silent and just did push ups in the corner, trying to get strong enough to defend myself. Mamuel and Anraziel spoke mostly to each other, often about the ‘coming war’ and what strategies we might be able to use. We knew Naomi was to be our general, but the two of them both had designs on being her second in command. The other two chatted quietly to each other in the corner, but I never bothered to listen in.

Then it was back to my little white room alone to do whatever task they put in front of me. Sometimes it was puzzles to test my intelligence, and I often did them out of sheer boredom. That may have been a mistake, because it seemed to convince them I was smarter than I let on and that there must just something wrong with the speech center of my brain. Kiraman would bring in books of faces and enemies I was supposed to remember and speak slowly and simply like I was a baby. “These are bad men,” he’d croon, “they would hurt you if they got the chance. Hunters kill anything different from them, and all of you are special. That’s why it’s so important to get you ready to fight.

Then I was back in my bed, staring at the four white walls. With time to think I’d find myself wondering what life was like for normal children. I’d been counting days meticulously as they ticked by, and knew when I had reached each mile stone. Two weeks, a month, three months, they flew by in a white sameness that left me dreamless. Why dream when there was nothing new to imagine? 

I wanted color and excitement and please just something new. I was so tempted again and again to admit I understood everything, to tell them yes, I know and see and think and want. Yet, once a week or so I’d see her out of corner of my eye somewhere. Naomi would stand outside our recreation room or peer into my quarters with a thin lipped scowl, wondering what was wrong with me and when I would be able to communicate like the others. Like her good little soldier. That scowl made everything worth it. 

I was five months old when the first change came. We were in combat training as usual, and Mamuel was killing me. I was on the ground, covering my ribs as he kicked them in with a smirk on his face. Lately he’d been getting more and more enjoyment out of this part of the day, especially because he believed I was too stupid to defend myself if I wanted to. I fought back until he got me on the ground, then I usually just waited to be healed to start over. They’d been making me wait longer and longer before they called Mamuel off, I suspected as reinforcement to get me to try harder. I was just so tired of it all, of letting him cave in my face and my ribs and snap my arms, all so he could brag about it later to Anraziel.

I wasn’t thinking. My hands reached out and grabbed at Mamuel’s foot, yanking him hard and knocking him off balance. My ribs ached, but I was numb to them as I swung my fist into his face again and again. I just wanted it to stop, and I willing to do anything to stop him. Maybe he’d gone soft after weeks of hitting a target who was bad at hitting back, but Mamuel took several punches to the face before he tackled me back. We fought fiercely on the floor, yanking and biting and elbowing before Maalik came and separated and healed us, a great big smile on his greasy face.

They gave me an extra portion of food that night, and I was given a long hot bath instead of a brisk shower. I knew they were trying to reward me for being aggressive and I tried not to enjoy it, but I’d never been allowed a hot bath before and I found myself hoping I might get another one if I was able to hold Mamuel off again. The two angels guarding me talked about me like I wasn’t there, offering me sweets on a tray that I immediately declined. 

“About time the idiot stop taking it,” Miriam muttered in front of me, setting down the tray. “You’d think even a mud monkey could have learned to fight back by now.”

“I don’t think he was choosing to lose,” Hester said gently. She was sweet, but the enemy, I had to remember that. “I think he was just too small. They never should have put him up against Mamuel. It’s just cruel.”

“He’s half archangel, it’s a fair fight,” Miriam insisted. “At least it will be, once they’re trained properly. Besides, he’s not so little now.”

This gave me pause, as I wasn’t sure what she meant. We weren’t allowed mirrors, and I had never actually seen myself. Thinking about it, I did notice that Mamuel had begun to seem more and more my height, and if he was not shrinking I must be growing. I stretched my hands out in front of me, trying to judge how old they were. These were not a boy’s hands, not like Rumandriel’s little fists, and he had been made before me.

That night in my bed I did more push ups, which was not easy in the small space provided to me, which was getting smaller all the time. I found they were getting easier, and my pajamas seemed to be shorter than they had been before. It was impossible to know how old I was physically, but I decided that night I was not a child anymore. Children could not fight back, and I intended to fight back as hard as I could. Just not yet.

The next day when it came time for combat training, I fought just as hard as I had the day before, and found it was easier than it had been to hold off Mamuel. I expected to fight him the whole two hours, but after only one Maalik stopped us and told us we were done for the day. I was confused; training had never ended early before. They left the others to fight and took Mamuel and I into a small room I had not seen before. Naomi sat behind a desk, smiling at us.

“There’s my star pupils,” she gushed, giving us each a hug that only Mamuel returned. “Do you both understand why you are not like the others? Do you know what it means to be an archangel.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Mamuel said, always willing to please her. “It means we are powerful, heavens most dangerous weapons, and the strongest threat to the hunters which seek to destroy the kingdom of God.” 

I said nothing.

“Well said, Dear Boy,” she said patting him on the arm. “I believe our sweet Sabriel may understand the concept too,” she leaned in close to me and her smile faltered for a minute, “even if he does not understand the words.” 

I fought back the urge to react. Did she know? Something was hidden in that disappointed smile. I had been so careful, could she really tell just from my face that I hated her and would never be obedient? I resolved to be more careful and let myself pretend to be distracted with my sleeve.

“You both have a bigger responsibility that the others to learn,” she explained. “All angels are powerful, but your fathers had all of Earth at their fingertips. In the coming weeks, you will be spending an hour with me each day to try and learn how to use your powers.”

Mamuel beamed in pride as I chewed on my sleeve. I knew no good would come of protesting, and with any luck maybe she’d decide it was too dangerous to have an idiot with ‘extreme power’ on her own. Still, the thought of having untapped power intrigued me. Anything that might help me get ready to escape could help, and if I had the potential to be as powerful as she was saying it was worth learning. 

I found myself wondering again which angel had provided the grace that created me. Had I ever met them? Were they even still alive? I knew archangels were in short supply, that’s why they wanted us. The only angel that knew any of their donors was Anraziel. Her father Raziel was alive and in heaven, and had visited her once. They must have decided no good could come from that, because he had never been allowed to visit again, and now they did not speak of him.

I wonder about the other donor too. I knew that there had to be two, because of that special word Kariman had let slip at my birth. Winchester. My name was Sabriel Winchester, but I wasn’t supposed to know that. Angels did not have last names, so it had to come from somewhere. 

In the coming weeks we were carted off to Naomi’s office once a day to learn about our grace and how to use it. She started us off by imagining we were holding a ball of energy, and then pushing it out from our hands until a real glowing blue ball was there between our palms. I pretended not to know what she asked until I saw Mamuel do it, then I would just ‘copy’ him. I made the ball, I burned the papers she set on the desk, and I lifted the heavy anchors she provided with ease after allowing the grace to flow into my muscles. Finding these abilities felt good, like I’d been flexing a muscle since my birth and was now able to relax it.

I noticed one thing very quickly though; they were not teaching us how to fly. I knew angels could, they popped in and out of rooms with ease, but that had not come up once in our lessons, and I thought I knew why. Naomi had to know about me. Mamuel would never voluntarily leave this place, not when there was a war to be fought to win the glory he so desperately craved. If she was refusing to teach us how to escape, it had to be because she knew I wanted to. I’d catch her staring at me sometimes, like she was daring me to open my mouth and admit what she already suspected. I’d just smile blankly and continue my lesson. I thought there was nothing that could make me give up my secret.

I was six and a half months old the day they brought him into our recreation room. We were all shocked to see another child, we had assumed we were the entire army, and did not know they had intended to make another soldier. The boy was small, and his small stature made me realize just how big I had gotten. I towered over him, so I tried to make myself look a little smaller by hunching over. There was no reason to scare the boy, I’d been where he had, and I felt empathy for another being the first time since my birth.

Kiraman stood behind him, wearing a great big smile on his pinched face. In his arms he held a file, and I started to subtly tilt my head, trying to read the note’s he’d left paperclipped to the side of it. 

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet our newest edition to your garrison. His name is Destiel. Please be kind to him as he is brand new and unlikely to understand our rules and schedule for some time.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I could see it, plain as day on the file in Kiraman’s hands. I doubt he thought any of us could read, and in fact I had no ideas if the others could, but I knew what that paper said. 

 

Specimen 6: Destiel Winchester.

 

The boy walked into the room slowly and sank down into a corner, looking around him with wide eyes. The other children nodded to him, interested in seeing a new face but knowing newborns are not very exciting to talk to. I eased myself over nonchalantly, glancing at the guards to see if I was attracting any attention. When I saw they weren’t looking at me I let myself take a long look at the boy. He was tiny, with short dark hair and very green eyes looking back at me apprehensively. The hair I could see on myself from where it had grown down past my ears looked lighter than that. Freckles peppered his chubby face, but I didn’t think I had those either.

I wanted to say something reassuring, but it seemed pointless. It would give me away, and it was unlikely he could understand me, I knew it had taken the other angels a week or so each to grasp speech. I just reached out and patted his shoulder as comfortingly as I could. He smiled a crooked smile at me, and without warning crawled into my lap and laid back against my chest like he was going to sleep.

I was surprised, but I didn’t move him. I saw the guards looking back at us and whispering to each other, but this wasn’t against the rules. I patted his back and ignored the sideways glances from the other children.

Winchester. It couldn’t be a coincidence. I couldn’t know if he looked like me or not, but it was possible we had both come from the same donor. That would make us brothers. If not that, then we could at least be family. He felt like family, like the only being I’d ever seen and truly wanted to help. My mind was made up in a matter of minutes. I was going to get out of here, and soon. And Destiel was coming with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Chronologically in supernatural this is happening in season eight, after the boys have found the bunker. The only difference is Naomi does not have control over Cas and never did. He is still afraid to go back to heaven and face what he did while he was Leviathan!Cas.

It had been a long night. Three bodies, partially burnt, had been found less than twenty miles from the bunker, completely drained of all blood, but with no other marks on them. With vampires ruled out and no witnesses to interview, the only thing left to do was research. Sam flipped halfheartedly through a old text they’d found in the library on blood drinkers, reading something out when he thought it might be useful.  
“It could be ritualistic,” he sighed. “Lots of occult groups use blood in rituals.”  
“That’d leave a mark. Doesn’t explain the burns either,” Dean mumbled. His book lay forgotten on his lap and his eyes were closed.  
“You could actually suggest something instead of just shooting down everything I find,” Sam said, pushing Dean awake.  
Dean yawned and stretched. “Dude, it’s two in the morning. I either need four hours of sleep or four gallons of coffee.”  
“I will make some,” Castiel offered quickly, setting his volume down and heading towards the kitchen.  
“Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way,” Sam said. “We're looking at blood drinkers, maybe the burns are what's important. Like maybe they were exposed to so much heat their blood just...evaporated.”  
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Our working theory is the blood just boiled away? I'm no doctor but that doesn't sound right.”  
Sam flipped through the book. “Well what do we know that can burn people?”  
“Lots of things can burn people. Maybe dragons?”  
“Dragons kidnap and eat, doesn't fit.”  
Dean ran a hand over his face. “Forget coffee, I need a beer. Hey Cas?” he called. “Can you bring me a beer?”  
There was no answer from the kitchen.  
“I hope he's not actually making four gallons of coffee,” Dean sighed, going to check on him. “He’s kind of literal.”  
Sam smiled and set his book down, wondering if they had anything on dragon subspecies in the library. He was about to check when Dean’s voice echoed back from the kitchen.  
“Sam!”  
He was up and running in a second. He found Dean kneeling on the floor in the kitchen, an unconscious Castiel lying on the floor beside him.  
“What happened?”  
“No idea, it looks like he just dropped. Do angels faint?”  
The angel groaned, scrunching up his face as the brothers lifted him from the ground and carried him to a sofa down the hall.  
“Cas?” Dean asked, shaking his shoulders a little. “ Are you with us, Buddy?” He paused. “Jimmy?”  
“No, Dean, it's me,” Castiel muttered. A hand went to his chest and he winced. “Where am I?”  
“Still in the bunker, Sam said. “You fainted or something, we don't know why.”  
“It was because of pain,” Cas said, hissing as he tried to sit up. “Something's happened to my grace.”  
“Something like what?”  
“It believe it's been splintered, used somewhere without my permission.”  
“And that hurts?” Dean asked.  
Castiel nodded. “Imagine someone cutting into your liver and taking a piece while your conscious. It’s unpleasant.’  
“Why would someone use your grace?” Sam asked.  
“It has to be heaven,” Castiel said. “To use another’s grace you must first have a sample of it, and the only sample I've ever given is in heaven.”  
Dean sighed . “Great. Just when we think we're done with all their bullshit they try to pull you back in.”  
“I don't think that was what they did,” Castiel said thoughtfully. “If they wanted me back badly enough to use their sample of my grace they could have used it to summon me.”  
“What else could they have used it for?”  
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “Something is not right.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Destiel made it very hard to stick to my plans. For the first few days of his life he could not speak, and I wondered if perhaps he was choosing to be silent like I had.   
That first day I held onto him through our recreation period, but the time to seperate us came quickly. He looked back at me with tears in his eyes as his handlers guided him back to his own observation rooms. I wondered if he felt the same pull towards me as I did to him, but it was impossible to ask.  
As I sat through my speech therapy the next day I could not stop my foot from bouncing in place, and Kiraman seemed to notice how antsy I was. I remembered my first full day. There was no adjustment period here, you were just thrown in. Who could they pair Destiel with for combat training? If it was true we had the same donor then it was possible he was an archangel hybrid, and would have to fight either myself or Mamuel. I did not want to hurt him, but I knew it would be better for him to fight me than the alternative. Mamuel would not go easy on him just because he was a newborn, and at least I could avoid the most painful places.   
To my surprise, Destiel was nowhere to be found in combat training. I did my usual sparring match with Mamuel and then headed off to Naomi’s office for our lesson on using our grace. No one mentioned the boy’s absence, though I saw a few sideways glances thrown in my direction.  
I was beginning to think they had gotten rid of him, but after my usual lunch we were all herded into the recreation room. There he was, sitting alone by some simple puzzles in the far corner. He smiled when he saw me and I waved as I came to sit near him. One by one he lifted his blocks to me so I could examine them, nod, and then set them down. I understood what he was trying to do. I remembered being that small not so long ago, trying to absorb as much new information as I could from the limited options around me. Occasionally I saw the guards in the room whispering to each other and glancing our way, but I just ignored them. I figured the worst that could come from me associating with Destiel was that they might think I had the mind of a newborn, and that could only help me.   
As the days went by Destiel continued to be absent from combat training, but was always there for recreation. He always came to me; he seemed to have little interest in the children around us, and they ignored him as well.  
On the fourth day he spoke. He was trying to get me to look at a ring puzzle he had solved, but I was watching the guards behind us write something on a clipboard. “Sabe, look,” he sputtered out, holding it up to me.  
Most of the room turned to look at Destiel in surprise. They must have thought he was going to be like me, ‘unable’ to communicate after months of practice, but he was the opposite. From the moment he grasped the ability to speak he never seemed to stop. That was where the difficulty came in. Despite my never answering him, Destiel seemed to want to play twenty questions every day.   
He would ask me things like ‘Why are we here? How did we get here? Why can’t I see you more? What do you do when I’m not here?’ I became the master of the noncommittal shrug. I would try to distract him with toys or games, but eventually he would start babbling again.   
One day he turned to me and said, “I don't like it when we're not together, Sabe. They take me to the bad white room and make me be all alone.” I tried to apologize to him with a hug. It wasn't his fault he was born into this awful place.  
It struck me that he didn’t seem as instantly mature as the others, and I wondered if it was his lack of training. It didn’t bother me that he wanted to be a child. That was how I started to think of him, as my child alone. I knew that was impossible, I would know if they had taken a sample of my grace. Yet we shared that precious, secret last name, and I tried to use that to explain my need to take care of him.  
Destiel was only two weeks old the day my life changed forever. It was a normal morning; I’d had my usual leafy meal and then sat through two hours pretending not to understand Kiraman’s flashcards. I’d shuffled off to combat training and was stretching before we started sparring when two angels walked Destiel in and handed him over to Maalik. I was shocked, he’d never been in combat training before. They’d never waited on anyone else, why wait to start training him?  
Maalik looked at me with a wicked glint in his eye. “Sabriel, you’ll be sparring with Anraziel. Mamuel, you’ll be with our little friend here.”  
My heart dropped. Mamuel was practically a grown man now! Destiel looked at me with naive confusion as they pushed him onto the sparring mat and put a weapon in his small hands. Mamuel stepped up to him, a training sword twirling in his right hand as he sized up his prey. Maalik dropped his hand between them, signaling they should start. I felt the anger burning up through my chest. They weren’t even going to warn him? He didn’t understand combat!  
What happened next was a blur to me, and not something I had control over. Later as I thought about it I realized it was like a sneeze; I saw it coming, but had no power to stop it. Mamuel’s sword raised back over his head as he prepared to strike down with the force of his whole body. There was a sudden longing in my soul, way in the depths of me that I had never let anyone see. More than anything I wanted to be between Destiel and that weapon. There was a flash of light, and I felt wind whoosh around me. Suddenly, without taking a step, I was there. I was between Mamuel and the boy, my hand outstretched and spread wide.  
“No!” I hollered, and the pitch of my voice shattered the windows around us. Mamuel went flying backwards and his head slammed into the far wall.  
The room was silent. I looked back at Maalik, expecting him to be furious, but he was smiling. The trainer disappeared for a moment, and then he was back. He nodded at two of the guards.   
“Take the child back to his quarters, and take Sabriel to Naomi.”  
To Naomi? Why wasn't I being punished here? Why send Destiel out before he even had his first fight? The truth crashed down on me like a pile of bricks. They weren’t training Destiel to fight because he wasn’t a soldier. He was here to make me fight, to make me speak, and I’d fallen for it.  
A guard placed his hand on my arm. “Don’t touch me,” I spat at him, making my way towards Naomi’s office on my own.   
“Sabe? You can talk?” I heard Destiel calling behind me. “Sabe, where are you going? Come back!”  
I wanted to be angry at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He might have been in on the plan to force my hand, but it was just as likely he was innocent. “Stay there, Destiel,” I called without turning back.  
Naomi sat at her desk with a sickly sweet smile on her face. She nodded once to the guards and they left me standing alone with her. For a long moment we just stared at each other. She let out a breathy chuckle and opened her bottom drawer to pull out a large glass container of brightly colored globs of something. “Sit down, Sabriel,” she offered. “Have a jelly bean.”  
I raised my fist and squeezed it. The jar exploded on her desk and the sweets rolled away from her by the hundreds. “No, thank you. I don’t like sugar.”  
This seemed to take her back a second. I sat down in the chair, my icy stare never leaving her face. She shook her head gently. “You know, we really hoped your trigger would be something as simple as candy. Your father loved candy. I should have known from the start, though. You want to trigger a Winchester, you use family.”  
As angry as I was, that took me by surprise. No one had ever said anything about my donors, and they certainly hadn’t implied I had a father. I tried to shake it off and focus on what mattered.  
“So,” she continued, “as I see it we can proceed one of two ways. One, we can pretend that the sight of your little friend so close to danger was so alarming to your nervous system that you suddenly gained the ability to speak and think logically. Or, two, we both can acknowledge that you’ve been lying to us since the moment we gave you life. Either way, what’s important is now you can start developing your true potential.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You think Mamuel could have performed that little stunt you just did? Let me tell you, he can’t. Some things can’t be taught. If you actually apply yourself your power could rival your father’s one day.”  
I set my jaw. “You knew I could read. You let me see his last name on purpose.”  
“Of course,” she nodded. “You may be intelligent, Number 5, but a creation can never surpass its creator.”  
“I won't fight,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “You might keep me here, but I'm not your soldier and I never will be. You may as well kill me now.”  
She shook her head sadly. “Is that truly how you feel?”  
“Yes.”  
“Unfortunate.” She pressed a small button on her desk. “Maalik, kill the boy.”  
“No!” I shouted again. The jelly beans along her desk shot off to the walls of the room.  
“Hold on, Maalik, he seems to be reconsidering.” She crossed her legs and leaned toward me like a teacher trying to explain a tricky subject. “I think you understand now, Sabriel. You give me what I want, a star pupil, and you continue to have the privilege of keeping that boy alive. He’s outlived his usefulness to us already, now that you’re out of hiding, but we’ll keep him around if you wish. Hey, I’ll even move the two of you into private quarters if you wish, because we just want you to be happy.”  
My fingernails dug into my hands. Life as I knew it was over. No more fading into the background, no more playing dumb. “Fine.” I spat, refusing to look at her.  
“Excellent,” she beamed, tapping the button again. “Maalik, take the boy to Sabriel’s new living quarters.” She stood and walked around me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I think this is going to be a much better arrangement, for all of us.”  
I stood and strode toward the door, desperate to get away from her gloating face.  
I expected the guards outside the door to lead me back to whatever quarters Naomi had been talking about, but they walked me toward combat training. I noticed with a smirk that they seemed to be deliberately standing apart from me, and neither reached a hand out to guide me. I walked into a strange scene.  
Destiel stood on the sparring mat, eyes red and wetness on his cheeks. Maalik, Mamuel, and two other angels stood around him, trying in vain to pull the child from the spot. The strain of four angels didn’t even seem to phase the boy. He stood as still as an oak and watched me as I approached him.  
Maalik let go and pointed at me. “Make the child move!” he ordered.  
I bent down to look Destiel in the eye. “What’s wrong?”  
“You...you said to stay here. So I did,” he sobbed.  
I put a hand on the boy’s small shoulder. How could I ever think he’d been a part of this plot against me? “You did a good job,” I said, “but now we’re going to go.”  
“Okay,” he nodded.  
I picked him and let him lay his head on my shoulder. The angels turned away from us to lead us away to our new quarters. I gripped Destiel tighter. This was our only shot. I imagined that weapon swinging down towards him and the fear and anger I had felt in that moment. As long as we were here, a weapon would always be over his head. I was the weapon. If I stepped out of line we were both in danger. I grabbed at that fear and my heart seemed to beat faster and faster. I felt our desperate need to escape.  
But where to go? I imagined the cold metal I’d been born on, that was opposite of a good place. So what was the opposite of that table? We needed someplace warm, someplace safe and far away from here. ‘Warm, safe, and far’, I repeated to myself again and again, trying to focus all my energy. There was a flash of light and air whooshing around me, and I heard Destiel scream.  
Silence. I opened my eyes but the angels were gone. The whole room was gone. We were standing in the cold open breeze, and it was dark. Fresh, crisp air hit my lungs for the first time and I savored it slowly. It worked. I had no idea where we were, but it worked. We were on Earth.  
“Sabe?” Destiel asked, looking around him into the night. “It’s dark here. I don’t like it. Where are we?”  
I tried to get my bearings. We were standing in something black. Soot? I knew the word but not what it meant, another gap in my knowledge. Some of it had been displaced when we landed, and it was settling heavily on our white shirts. We were completely alone in a blackened clearing, trees looming over us on either side. Off to my right I saw a large area filled with...cars. I knew that word too. There was a sign high above them.  
“We’re at Singer’s Salvage Yard.”  
“I thought it was day time.”  
“Me too.”   
I had no idea whether heaven kept a different schedule than Earth or if my flight had taken longer than I thought. Either way the flight had drained me, and I struggled to stay standing. We wandered around the empty cars until I found one with what looked to be clean bench seats. I slid into the front and set Destiel into the back, glad the windows were sturdy enough to keep out the wind. I thought he had drifted off to sleep after a few minutes, but then he leaned over the seat to whisper to me with a curious look on his face. I smiled; that was the face he always made before he played twenty questions, and this time I could answer him.  
“Sabe, can we go back home?” Destiel asked.  
I shook my head. “That wasn’t home, Kid. We’re going to find a new place to live, here on Earth where the angels can’t find us.”  
“Why?”  
“Because...I’ll explain when you’re older. We just weren’t safe there. Here we can spend all day together, okay? You don’t have to go back to the white room.”  
He smiled at that. “Not ever?”  
“Not ever,” I promised.  
“Sabe, how come you can talk now?”  
“It’s complicated. I’ll always answer you now, though.”  
“Good. How long are we gonna’ stay here?”  
“Until the sun comes up.”  
“What’s the sun?”  
That tripped me up for a minute. “Uh...I’ll show you when it’s here, okay?”  
“Okay.” I could tell he had another question and waited for it in silence. “Why do you like me, Sabe?”  
I opened my eyes and smiled at him. “Because we’re family, Des.”  
His little eyes grew wide. “For real?”  
“Yep. So we take care of each other, alright?”  
He beamed. “Alright! G’night Sabe.”  
“Night Des,” I said. I fell into the first truly restful sleep of my life.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, hand me the body,” Dean called up from the grave he’d just dug.

Sam lowered a tarp with something heavy in it down to his brother. Wrapped inside was the remains of the subspecies of phoenix that had been burning people in Lebanon with only a single touch, boiling their blood from the inside. It had been two weeks since Castiel’s collapse in the kitchen, and after days of research and reexamining the crime scenes they had finally found the beast and been able to kill it with an iron bullet. The downside was that this particular species did not burn into ash upon death, and now they had to get rid of a body that occasionally caught on fire.

Castiel stood off to the side, staring up into the sky. He’d stuck by the hunters closely since he felt his grace splinter, because for some reason it felt like the right thing to do. Truth be told he’d always been drawn to the Winchesters for one reason or another; call it friendship or a familial bond, but he preferred to be with them than away from them. Still, there was something new tugging at him now. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Dean because he didn’t want to worry him, but he knew there was something out in the universe that hadn’t been there before, and it was important he be near Dean when he found it.

Dean stole quick glances at the angels back and spoke lowly to Sam. “I’m telling you, something’s bugging him.”

“Well, he said losing his grace was like losing an organ right? I’d be pretty freaked out if I lost my liver and had no idea what it was being used for,” the younger one shrugged. “I think he’s fine.”

It was when all three were riding back to the bunker in the Impala that Castiel screamed. Dean swerved and the car came to screeching halt on the side of the road. The hunters turned to look at him but Castiel had already flown out of the car. He stood in the middle of the road, staring up at the night sky.

“He’s fine, huh?” Dean asked as they ran out to meet him

“Cas?” Sam called out. “What are you doing?”

“It’s here. On Earth. I felt it.”

“Your grace?”

“Yes. The missing piece. I’ve got to find it. Will you help me?”

“Of course we will,” Dean nodded. “Where do we start?”

Castiel squared his jaw. “I don’t know.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up before dawn and tried to wake Destiel so he could see the sunrise. To my surprise he just pushed my hands away and grumbled, burying himself further into the crease between the seats. I’d never actually seen him first thing in the morning, and I noted with a chuckle that he was a grumpy sleeper.

I sat on the hood of the little yellow car as the light slowly rose over the horizon. There were new colors here, pinks and purples and oranges I knew only by name but never by sight. I decided I wanted to see the sunrise every day for the rest of my life, however long that may be.

Once the light show was over I started to wander around the little lot we’d found ourselves in. Why did I fly here? This hardly seemed like the safest place. In the light of day I could see that this must have once been a house. Pieces of wall still stood here and there, and I could see what might have been a desk once. It was burnt badly on the outside, but I pried open the drawers to see if there was any food or money in them. There wasn’t, unfortunately, just a lot of singed files with weird words I could read but not understand. 

I was flipping through a file on something called a ‘wendigo’ when a picture fell out. There were four men in it and two women, and one of the men was sitting down. The film had bubbled and charred from the intense heat, and I could barely make out the faces. I wondered absently which one of them had owned the land we were squatting on.

‘Sabe?’

I turned around, expecting Destiel to be behind me, but there was no one there.

‘Sabe, help!’ his voice echoed inside my skull. 

I dropped down low as I hurried back toward the car I’d left him in. I could hear voices and the crunch of shoes on gravel. I crawled down underneath a truck and peeked out carefully. Angels. Two angels were standing right next to the car and peering suspiciously into the back seat.

Panic gripped my heart as I raised a hand. I felt an electric pulse run through my palm, and then suddenly the angels were being thrown back through the air. I ran to the car and pulled it open, but I didn’t see Destiel inside. I was about to call for him, but then I felt small arms reach out and grab me as an invisible body crawled up into my arms. I should have flown, but I had no place to go, and no time to think of one. I ran as fast as my long legs could carry us, always listening to hear if the angels were gaining on us. I heard a shout and someone yelling my name, but by then we were far past the trees around the property and I was pretty sure they couldn’t see us.

The trees gave way to a street, and I stumbled over the hard pavement. I’d never seen a human before, but as people strolled down the sidewalk around us I knew that was what they were. I ducked into an alley between two old brick buildings, trying as best as I could to hide us in the shadows of early morning.

We held our breath as we waited for the angels to find us, but after ten minutes of silence we were able to calm down a bit. Destiel became visible slowly, but his iron grip on my shirt never weakened. He sobbed a little as I rubbed his back.

“I’m sorry, Des. From now on we never seperate.”

“How’d they find us?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. I’d never been away from the angels before, and I had no idea if they could track me. What I did know is that we would not be able to stay in the same place for very long. 

“I’m hungry. Can we have sticky stuff to eat?”

“Sticky stuff?”

He nodded. “You know, in the morning they bring us sticky stuff or that food you have to hold with two hands.”

I shrugged. “They must have been feeding you something different than they gave me.”

“But I can smell it,” the boy insisted. He pointed out of the alley. “It’s over there.”

We eased out of the alley and made our way to the little building that smelled like food to Destiel. There were people here, all seated at little tables and booths and chatting while they drank from white cups and ate things I’d never seen before. We sat down, not quite sure how to get the food to come to our table. A smiling human with a yellow dress walked up to us with a pot of the brown drink.

“Coffee, Sir?” she asked me.

“Um, yes, please,” I nodded. She filled a cup as I wondered just how old I appeared to the humans. She seemed to think I was an adult. 

She turned to Destiel. “And what would you like to drink, Little Man?”

“Sticky stuff!” he beamed.

“Uh, just water,” I cut in quickly. 

She handed us plastic cards and walked away. I understood the concept of money, and as I looked over the pictures of food with names next to them I realized we had no way of buying anything. I was about to suggest we slip out quietly, but Destiel grabbed my arm and pointed excitedly at the pictures. 

“That’s the big food that takes two hands!” he said, pointing to the lower corner.

“It’s called a hamburger,” I said looking at the words printed next to it.

“I want a hamburger, then,” he smiled, looking extremely pleased with himself. I couldn’t make him leave now, and we did have to eat.

I ordered something called a grapefruit and sipped at the bitter hot drink the woman had called coffee while Destiel tore into his hamburger. I noticed the man behind me opened a bottle on this table and poured something white into his coffee. I explored the little bottles on our table, trying to figure out which one went into the drink. I squeezed a dollop of yellow sap onto my plate to taste it.

Destiel pulled the bottle out of my hands with a gasp. “You found the sticky stuff, Sabe!”

“It’s called honey,” I said, pointing to the side of the bottle.”

“I like honey, too!” he said. He opened his burger and poured the sweet substance all over the meat inside, drawing a few sideways glances from the humans around us. I assumed it was a bit of a weird food choice, but he looked too excited for me to stop him.

A hand came down on my shoulder. “Sam, who’s your friend?”

I jumped and spun around. There was a woman behind me with short brown hair and a smile. She wore a uniform of some kind, but I didn’t know what it meant. Her smile faltered when she saw my face.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” she said, blinking in confusion. “I thought you were… You look a lot like someone I know.” She held out a hand. “Sheriff Jody Mills, nice to meet you.”

I thought quickly to try to come up with a fake name as I shook her hand, but I was too late. “Hi!” Destiel said, waving to her. “My name is Destiel and I like honey!”

“Well hello, Destiel,” she said with a wink. “I like honey, too.” I saw her eyes glance up and down us. I realized we must have looked very strange in our bright white shirts stained with soot and pajama bottoms. “Have a good breakfast, boys.” She nodded at me and strode back to the booth behind us.

I sat quietly while I waited for Destiel to finish his meal. I was very aware that there was someone with law enforcement in the diner I was about to technically rob. As soon as he put the last bite into his mouth I scooped a bit of honey off his plate and wiped it on his shirt.

“Oh, look Des, you’ve made a mess on your shirt. Let’s go get you cleaned up,” I said, loud enough for the Sheriff to hear me.

Destiel squinted his eyes and tilted his head at me quizzically, but said nothing as I shuffled him off to the bathroom. I was planning to fly us quickly out of the restaurant once we were out of sight, but as we walked into the bathroom I saw something that I’d never seen before. My own face.

There was a long mirror above the sinks, and two people we had never met stared back at us. “Wow!” Destiel said, climbing up on the sink to get a better look at his own toothy grin. “My eyes are green! I never got to see my eyes in the bad place.”

So I was tall. I had expected that, after all everyone else seemed to be getting shorter. My hair was brown like the trees around the clearing of Singers Salvage Yard, and hung a few inches below my chin. I looked older than I thought I would, maybe a little younger than Mamuel. I definitely wasn’t an adult, though, and I figured the waitress had just been polite. I stared into my own eyes. They were light and yellowish, and I thought they looked too big on my face.

“Your eyes look like honey,” Destiel said, brushing down his dark hair with his hands. 

I heard the door hinges squeak open and I grabbed Destiel’s hand. I had enough time to see the Sheriff’s suspicious eyes peek around the door before my panic helped me fly us away.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sheriff Jody Mills followed the boys quietly as they headed off towards the bathroom. She knew most of the people in her town, and all of the usuals at Kat’s Diner, and these kids stuck out like sore thumbs. After she’d seen the teenager put honey on the kids shirt out of the corner of her eye she knew they were either up to trouble, or in it.

She pressed her ear against the door. “Wow!” she heard the kid say. “My eyes are green! I never got to see my eyes in the bad place.”

She frowned. What were these kids caught up in? She tried to put her best ‘trustworthy mom’ face on. If she could just get them to sit down and talk to her she might to able to figure out where they came from and how to help them.

“Your eyes look like honey,” the kid said as she eased open the door.

The older one turned quickly at the sound of the door and grabbed the boy’s hand. She was about to tell him to stay calm, and then suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. She stepped into the bathroom, convinced it must have been a trick of the mirror. The stalls were all empty, and the only window stood high above her head and was much too small to fit through. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Dealing with runaway kids was one things, but this was a step further.

She paid her tab, and the kids’ bill as well before she made her way out to the parking lot. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, picking a familiar number.

“Sheriff?” the gruff voice answered.

“Hey, Dean. What part of the country are you in?’

“Uh, Kansas.”

“I’ve got something for you boys. Disappearing kids in a diner in my hometown. How soon can you get here?”

“Immediately,” Castiel said behind her.

She turned around to see a very confused Sam and Dean standing on either side of the angel.

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean asked, still holding the phone to his ear. “We could have just driven.”

“Dean, this is important,” Castiel said, peering into the windows of the diner. “Are the children in there?”

“No. Why don’t we go to the station and I’ll explain,” she started, but Castiel cut her off.

“Which direction did they take? Were they on foot? Were they hurt?” he asked in rapid succession.

“Hey,” Dean stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Cas, what’s going on?”

“It’s my grace. Whatever is happening with it has to do with the children Jody is looking for.”

“How do you know?” Sam asked. He’d never seen the angel look so flustered; he was looking around in every direction and seemed to fidget uncomfortably.

“I have no idea. We have to find them.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded. “We will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! They meet the boys in this chapter! I had some people PM me to ask how they got the angel's grace, so I hope I explain it well in this chapter. Thank you so much for the support this has gotten here and on FF.net, kudos and comments give me fuel to write more.

“I gotta say, that’s not much to go on,” Dean said from his perch on the side of Jody’s desk. They were crowded into her small office where she’d just told them about the incident. “Two kids acting kinda’ weird and spacey? Doesn’t that describe most kids these days?”

“I’m less worried about honey on a burger and more concerned about them literally disappearing in front of me. I know what I saw, one minute they’re there, the next, poof.”

“Did you hear anything when they disappeared?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” she thought a moment, “kind of like a whoosh? Like maybe someone falling.”

“That’s gotta’ be angels, right?” Dean said, nudging Cas. “Maybe they’re picking younger vessels.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

“Did you happen to notice anything else strange about them?” Sam asked.

“Their clothes,” she nodded. “They were wearing matching hospital clothes, like pajamas. They were filthy too, like they’d been rolling in soot.”

“Any fires recently?”

“No. We haven’t had a fire since… well since Bobby’s.”

“Oh,” Dean said looking a little uncomfortable. “Okay, so we start there. Maybe they have a clubhouse there are something.”

“I’d say more like a squatters nest,” she said. “I know lost kids when I see them. I’d say they’re living alone.”

“What are we looking for here? Teens? Little kids?”

“One of each. The kid has dark hair and big green eyes, and a mess of freckles. He told me his name was Destiel. The older one, uh,” she smiled, “actually he’s the spitting image of Sam.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Same build, same hair, almost as tall as you. I actually thought it was you until he turned around, his nose and mouth are shaped differently. He could be your brother. Good looking kid.”

Dean snorted. 

“Shut up,” Sam said halfheartedly.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Higher!” Destiel screeched happily.

I smiled as I pushed the swing higher into the air. It was good to hear him acting like a real kid, and after all that was the plan. When we flew from the diner my only desire was to find somewhere we could blend in. Moments later we found ourselves in a large park filled with kids running around on colorful structures. Our clothes still stood out a bit, but a few grass stains on Destiel’s shirt made it look like he'd just gotten dirty while he was playing. I just rolled up my sleeves and brushed off the soot as well as I could.

Every few moments I glanced around the crowded park, trying to catch sight of any angels. It had taken them several hours to find us the first time, so I hoped we’d be safe here until at least the afternoon. After that...I had no idea what we were going to do. We had no money, no food, and nowhere to sleep now that the salvage yard was compromised. 

I watched some people who looked my age walk off together down the street and thought bitterly about Naomi. I hated her, but she was as close to a parent as I had ever had. Supposedly I had two others, the archangel whose powers I seemed to have inherited and someone named Winchester. Perhaps I could find them? Even if I did there was no guarantee they wouldn’t turn me right back in to Naomi. Assuming they knew I even existed, they might have given up their DNA voluntarily.

I was lost in thought when I the voice broke through my mind.

_ “I’m coming, Sabriel.” _

My blood ran cold. It couldn’t be. Mamuel? I looked around, instantly snatching Destiel from the swing and preparing to run.

“ _ You can’t hide forever,”  _ the voice teased _. “I’m going to bring you back, and then you can answer to Naomi for being a traitor _ .”

“What’s wrong, Sabe?” Destiel asked me.

If he couldn’t hear it the voice had to be in my head. Mamuel wasn’t here, not yet, but he was on Earth.

_ “It would be so much better for you to just give up now. You haven’t done anything we can’t forgive, yet. Every minute of this tantrum just brings more pain for you in the future. Naomi says the boy can be spared if you turn yourself in before sunset. After that he will officially be labeled a failed experiment and terminated, and we’ll still catch you eventually. Come home immediately and face your consequences as an adult.” _

“Leave us alone,” I whispered fiercely, hoping he could hear me somehow.

_ “We’re coming, Sabriel. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no one to help you. We are your family, and we’ll make you understand that.” _

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The ride to Bobby’s was a familiar one, but neither brother spoke as they passed familiar landmarks. It was their first drive to the old salvage yard since the man’s death, and both found themselves occasionally forgetting that the house they were expecting to see no longer stood as a safe haven in Sioux Falls. Castiel drummed his fingers on his knees in the back seat of the car Jody had leant them, eager to do something, anything, to relieve this panic rising in his throat. He paused suddenly a few blocks from Bobby’s.

“Stop the car.”

Dean pulled over. “Are they close?”

“No. Angels. I can hear them, they’re using a low frequency, I couldn’t pick it up until now.” He reached forward. “Take my hands, I can get us close.”

The three men appeared crouched behind a large pickup in the salvage yard. There were footsteps somewhere ahead of them, and the hunters quietly pulled out their guns. They peered over the bed and saw two beings standing by a small yellow sedan. They appeared to be completely silent.

“Can you hear them?” Dean asked.

“Yes. They are broadcasting. One is speaking to Naomi, she’s in charge of manipulating angels in heaven. The other is threatening someone.”

Dean cut the side of his hand with a knife and used his finger to draw a symbol against the truck. Castiel nodded and disappeared. Dean pressed his hand against the symbol and bright light lit the yard as the angels were banished. Castiel popped back next to them, striding quickly towards the little yellow car. One of the beings was unconscious on the ground.

“How is he still here?” Sam asked. “I thought that spell banished all angels.”

“It does,” Castiel said quizzically, turning the man over to look at his face and raising him by his collar. “This is not an angel. Not entirely anyway.” He peered closer into the man’s face. “Michael? That’s impossible?”

“Michael? Like, ‘wants to use me as a vessel so we threw his ass in hell’, Michael?”

“It looks like him, but something’s off. It’s like he’s been watered down,” Castiel said, setting him back onto the ground. “And he’s clean. Innocent. I don’t think this soul has ever taken a life.” He placed a hand on the man’s head. “Heaven is trying to give him instructions. ‘The traitors are in Colorado at a playground near Denver.’”

“There’s a lot of playgrounds in Colorado,” Sam said. “We better get started.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


I was helping Destiel up into the slide when I saw it. There was an angel approaching us, I could see the energy pouring off of him despite his disguise. I didn't recognize him, I'd never seen an angel in a suit and trench coat before, but it could easily be a new vessel. I took hold of Destiel’s hand and prepared to fly us away. Then I saw who the angel was walking with.

There were two humans with him, and though I did not know their names, I knew their faces very well. Kiraman had shown them to me again and again, everyday, preparing me for the coming war.

Hunters. The most dangerous hunters in the world. 'These are true monsters,’ Kiraman said in my memory. 'They feel nothing but anger and bring nothing but death. They will kill you on sight because you are not human. They will follow you until the end of time once they have their target on your back. The only solution is to kill them.’

And they were looking right at me.

“Des,” I said quietly, “get in the slide and stay invisible. Don't come out until I say it's safe.”

The boy nodded and slid down about a foot into the tunnel before disappearing. I picked up a sharp stick, wishing I'd had enough foresight to properly arm myself when I had the chance. I gripped the weapon tightly and stepped toward my enemies, wanting to put distance between us and Destiel.

The taller Hunter had the audacity to smile at me and raise a hand in greeting. I threw out my palm and the man went shooting backwards into a sandbox. I heard some screams as children and their parents started to run from the scene. 

“Hey!” the shorter one yelled. “Kid, we just want to help!”

I took a long stride, swinging my stick down through the air to connect with his head. He was faster than I expected; he stepped out of the way of the weapon easily and grabbed it on the downswing, ripping it from my hands. I threw a kick his way, trying to put enough distance between that he couldn’t hit me with my own weapon.

“I’m not gonna’ hurt you!” the hunter said. “Just talk to me! My name is Dean W--”

He was lying, and I wasn’t going to let him lull me into a false sense of safety. My fist connected with his face and I felt a bone splinter under his eye. He was thrown off balance and stumbled to the ground.

“Cas!” the hunter yelled. “A little help here?”

I felt the angel suddenly behind me. I spun around and felt his hands on my face. I winced, expecting to find myself in front of Naomi in seconds, but he did not fly me away. Piercing blue eyes stared into mine with a mix of pain and confusion.

“Gabriel?”

I frowned. He had my name wrong. “I won’t go back!” I screamed at him. “You’ll just have to kill me, but you’ll never find the kid! He’s long gone!”

Realization seemed to dawn over the angels face. “Not Gabriel. But Gabriel’s grace is inside of you. And what else?” He got closer. “Human? Oh!” he gasped taking a step back.

The taller hunter had picked himself out of the sand and was running toward us. Seeing his brother on the ground made him run at me faster, and I saw him pull a gun from his jacket.

“Sam, stop!” the angel cried. “Sam, he’s your son!”

The hunter froze, staring at the angel like he’d grown a second head. “What? Cas, I don’t have--”

I wasn’t falling for it. I dived at the man’s middle, knocking him back to the ground. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and tried to pry me back. I wasn’t use to this kind of fighting. When I went against Mamuel the point was to kill each other by any means necessary, but this felt almost...defensive. He spun me over and suddenly I was pinned by his arm onto the ground. I waited for him to swing down at me, but he didn’t. The hunter was examining my face the way the angel had, disbelief plain on his face.

“Who are you?”

I was going to spit in his face, but I was distracted when I realized the angel had turned away from both of us. He stood stock still, his eyes wide and turned towards the slide. Destiel stood at the bottom of it, completely visible and staring back at him.

“Des, run!” I screamed. “He’ll take you back! Go!”

Destiel started to run, but in the wrong direction. He was running toward the angel, arms outstretched. The angel took long strides toward him, arms reaching down. I felt the panic grip me, and I flew instantly. The hunter pinning me, Sam, fell to the ground at my sudden absence, and I appeared only feet away from the angel. I was too late, the angel was sweeping him up and gripping him tightly.

I flinched, expecting them to disappear at any moment, but they didn’t. The angel held Destiel to his chest, gasping in relief as tears began to well in his eyes. Destiel clung to him like a raft in a storm, little hands gripping the trenchcoat as tightly as he could.

“Cas?” the shorter hunter, the one who’d introduced himself as Dean was easing up behind us, blood dripping down the side of his face.

“Des?” I asked, reaching a hand out towards him.

Destiel turned to me, a great big smile on his freckled face. “Look, Sabe! I found my Daddy!”

I blinked. This was Destiel’s donor? How could he have found us, and why now? Every instinct I had screamed that I should grab the boy and take us someplace safe, but he looked so happy and calm.

“This is it, Dean,” he angel said, an identical grin on his face. “I found the missing piece of my grace. It was used to make this child. My child. I don’t even know your name,” he said turning to the boy.

“My name is Destiel, and I like honey!” the boy said.

The angel chuckled. “My name is Castiel, and I like honey as well.”

Destiel turned and looked at me, then reached his hand out for me to take it. I did, reluctantly, and he smiled at his father. “Daddy, this is Sabe, he’s my family.”

I glanced at the bigger hunter, and found he was looking at me too. I squinted, taking in his hair and his face and thinking about just how similar the image I’d seen in the mirror was to him. I didn’t have this absolute knowledge the way Destiel seemed to have, but could it be possible the angel was telling the truth about me being the man’s son? Were they really here to help us?

“Who are you?” I asked him.

“My name is Sam Winchester,” he said, looking at me the same way.

Winchester. I stood up straighter. “My name is Sabriel Winchester. I think we need to talk.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

The angel, Castiel, asked us all to lay a hand on him. I did so, reluctantly, and then we found ourselves by the side of a road near a power plant. Dean lead us through an entrance into a large bunker, and I was impressed with it despite my trepidation. I tried to stay as close to Destiel as I could; the boy had not left the angel’s arms and seemed perfectly content to stay there permanently. I sat as close to them as I could at the large table, ready to dart if the situation turned bad.

“Daddy, where are we?” Destiel asked, wide eyes taking in the huge room.

“We are at a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas,” Castiel said. “We’ll be staying here a while, if that’s alright?” he said questioningly towards Sam.

“Of course,” Sam nodded absently. His eyes were still trained on me, and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. “You meant what you said, Cas? This is my son?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. He was trying to rub soot and grass stains from Destiel’s shirt. “You need clothes. And probably food. Are you hungry? Is it too cold in here?”

Destiel shook his head, plopping himself down on the table in front of the angel. “Nope, Sabe and I had a great big breakfast! 

Castiel looked over at me gratefully. “Sabriel takes care of you?”

Destiel nodded. “Yep, cause’ we’re family.”

“I guess you would be,” Dean said as he came back from the kitchen holding bottles. “All angels are brothers, right? If you’re both half angel that’d make you cousins.”

“Right,” Castiel said, eyes turning away from him. The angel shifted uncomfortably.

Dean set brown bottles in front of Sam, Castiel, and myself, saving one for himself. “Uh, we don’t have anything for the kid to drink. We’ll have to make a run.” He plopped down next to Sam and pressed the bottle against his swollen cheek.

Sam gawked at the bottle his brother had set in front of me. “Really, Dean? He shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Oh come on, we were drinking by that age. How old are you, Kid? Seventeen?”

I opened the drink and took an experimental sniff. “I have been alive for six and a half months.”

Dean stared at me, then slowly slid my drink away from me. “Okay, two beers for me then.”

“Sabriel,” Castiel said, “will you tell us where the two of you came from?”

I tried to explain the best way I could. I told them about my birth and Naomi, and hearing the name Winchester. I explained our daily schedule and the war we were preparing for. When I mentioned Maalik trying to attack Destiel I saw the angel’s grip on the boy tighten a little bit.

“Maalik was always a coward,” Castiel spat, “but this is low, even for him.”

We sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute. Finally, Sam held out a hand for me to take. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sabriel. I’m, uh, I’m sorry we haven’t met before now. I mean, I’m glad you’re here, I just, uh...Sorry, I’ve never...This is new territory for me.”

“You didn’t know I existed?” I asked, shaking his hand.

“No. If I had I would have…” he trailed off and blushed a little. “Listen, I know we just met, and you don’t know me. But please believe me, if I had known I had a son trapped in heaven we would have been doing everything we could to get you out. I’m sorry.”

“How did they even get your DNA?” Dean asked.

“Probably the same way the leviathan did,” Castiel murmured. “Humans leave their DNA everywhere, it’s not hard to collect. It’s an angel’s grace that’s hard to get your hands on.”

“Then I was made from two people, angel and human,” I said. “Who was the angel?”

“The archangel Gabriel,” Castiel said. Everyone turned to look at him. “I recognized his 

grace immediately. It shines out of Sabriel the way mine shines out of Destiel.”

“Gabriel?” Sam asked, a look on disgust on his face.

Dean chuckled. “You’ve gotta’ be kidding me. The trickster is your baby daddy?”

“You know him?” I asked. I hoped the angel I’d received my grace from was near, and I hoped I could recognize him as easy as Destiel seemed to have. Perhaps, with his help, we could hold Naomi off. Assuming he wasn’t working for her of course.

They looked at me uncomfortably. Dean cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Gabriel died before you were even born.”

I sighed. I’d always wondered if that was the case, I knew there weren’t many archangels left. “How did he die?”

“As a hero,” Sam said. “He died trying to kill the devil and stop the apocalypse.”

“Were you friends?”

“Uh… Not exactly. But we were on the same side at the end. I have no idea why they’d put our DNA together, though.”

“Because they can’t have Lucifer’s,” Castiel said. Everyone looked at him. “All angels were compelled to give a sample of their grace to the armies of heaven long ago, before even Gabriel left. Lucifer was already gone by then, cast down into the pit. You are a powerful vessel, Sam, and they probably wanted to use you to create the antichrist. But without Lucifer’s grace an archangel is the next best thing.”

“So your options are the trickster and literally satan,” Dean said. “Wow Kid, I think you got off easy.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Without him I have no idea how to keep us safe from Naomi.”

“Hey,” Dean said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You realize this makes me your uncle? I know you don’t know as much about us as other angels do, but we take care of our own. You’re going to stay right here and we’re going to figure this out. Besides, you don’t strike me as the defenseless type. You’ve got a mean right hook.”

I placed my fingers apologetically on his cheek and felt his bone snap back into place as I healed him. “I’m sorry. They showed me your pictures often, along with a dozen others. They told me hunters kill whatever isn’t human. They said you’d kill me if you ever got the chance.”

Dean shook his head. “Sons of bitches.”

“Dean!” Castiel hissed, covering Destiel’s ears.

“Right, sorry. Not used to kids being around. So how old are you?” he asked the boy.

Destiel shrugged.

“He was born seventeen days ago,” I answered quickly. “Most of us are born physically about seven years old, but he seems younger to me.” I frowned. “I suspect they wanted to make him seem more vulnerable so I’d be drawn to him. It worked.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for saving my son. You didn’t have to do that. Gabriel would be proud of you.”

“So, they made Sabriel from an angel and a human. Did they use a human to make him too?” Dean asked, pointing at Destiel.

“Um,” Castiel said, looking uncomfortable again, “yes, I’d assume so. I can see definite human qualities about his soul. We may never know who they chose.”

“That’s okay,” Destiel said beaming. “This morning I just had a Sabe and now I have a Sabe and a Daddy.”

Castiel kissed the boys head and he giggled, then he passed the child to me. “Sabriel, will you stay with him a moment? Dean, I need to talk with you privately for a moment.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean followed Castiel into the kitchen and shut the door behind them. “What’s going on Cas? The kid’s not lying is he? He seems pretty serious.”

“Sabriel? No, I believe he is telling the truth. I...I just needed to speak with you about Destiel. What do you think of him? I mean, when you look at him, what do you see?”

Dean chuckled. “He looks just like you, if that’s what you mean. It’s gonna’ be weird to imagine you as a dad, but you’re going to do a great job, don’t worry. We’ll try to find his mom, too, it can’t be that hard to do a blood calling to blood spell.”

“I don’t believe my child has a mother.”

“That’s alright,” Dean said. “Sam and I grew up without a mom and we turned out… Well we save the world a lot, so we can’t be that bad. You have me and Sam to help you. All a kid needs is a parent who loves them, and hell, Sabriel seems about as close to him as you are.”

“I believe my child has two parents.”

Dean took a second to process. “But no mother. Okay, so another guy, like Sam and Gabriel. Do you want us to find him? If he’s a hunter he might not be as drawn to him as you seem to be. Poor guy probably doesn’t even know.”

Castiel sighed and rubbed his forehead. “This is difficult. Dean, I knew that Sam was Sabriel’s father because I can see it in his soul. Destiel’s outside appearance may resemble me, as you said, but his soul...It resembles you.”

Dean stared at him. “Are you...Are you trying to tell me that that’s  _ my _ son?”

“ _ Our, _ son. I realize this is a lot to take in, especially for a human. I did not need to adjust to this, because I’ve felt his presence since my grace splintered weeks ago. I understand if you would rather no one else know about this. You heard him, he’s just happy to have found his family. As you said he has me and he has Sabriel, you and Sam can just be his uncles, he’d never know the difference.”

Dean stumbled back and opened up the fridge. “I need a drink.”

“Dean, I--”

“Just-- Just give me a minute, alright?” he said, holding out his hand. He poured himself a drink from a bottle of tequila and downed it quickly. “Is he normal? Like, is he going to just disappear overnight or turn into slimer or something?”

“He’s not going to disappear, but if by normal you mean human then no, he’s not that. I think his growth is probably accelerated due to being part angel. Probably slower than Sabriel, but still, I’d give him a year before he is fully grown.”

“A year?” Dean whispered harshly. “Jesus, Cas! That’s not a lot of time to raise a kid. I mean you have to teach them stuff and make sure they don’t end up a douchebag who wears sunglasses indoors and doubleparks a convertible or a freakin’ hippie who only eats tofu and talks about how great it is to be gluten free or an asshole who never tips and listens to the Dave Matthews Band--”

“Dean I believe you are freaking out.”

“You’re damn right I’m freaking out! The poor kid only gets a year to experience literally every part of childhood. Even I had more of a childhood than that.”

“You’re not angry?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I’m pissed. I’m pissed a bunch of angels wanted to play God and now there’s an army of kids who think their only meant to be soldiers. I’m pissed they decided to use us to make one of them and he doesn’t get a normal life because they were just using him. That  _ sucks _ , Cas.”

“But you’re not angry with...us?”

“You and the kid? You didn’t do anything.”

“I just thought you’d be uncomfortable. I know you’d never thought about raising a child with another man.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not really a man, right? Angels don’t have genders?”

“That’s correct. I wasn’t sure you’d see it like that.”

“Give me some credit, Cas. We, uh, we’re going to get through this together. The three of us. Give me tonight so I can think about things, and we’ll talk about things tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Castiel smiled.

The two of them wandered back into the main room. Destiel raised his hands as soon as he saw Cas and the smiling angel plucked him out of Sabriel’s arms. Now that he knew, Dean couldn’t help but see himself in the boy’s face. Those bright green eyes sure didn’t come from Cas, and the freckles looked awfully familiar. He slumped down next to his brother who was dealing with a similar internal meltdown. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so we have a plot to further and a war to get to, but dammit I am a fluff writer at heart and our boys have been through a lot. So, this chapter is going to be mostly pure fluff, just Sam reacting to suddenly having a nearly grown son, Dean struggling with his own inner turmoil about how to be a father to Destiel, and lots of cute nonsense like that. So up until now I’ve mainly done Sabriel’s POV with switches to third person when he is not in a scene to narrate. I put in lines to indicate POV is changing but for some reason they're not coming through on FF.net, only Ao3. I think this chapter will work better from third person, so we get to see the characters from each other's eyes. Thanks for the support everyone, R and R.

Sabriel ran his fingers over the raised lettering on the wall of the library as Sam pulled out several books from the shelves. 

“Are you ‘Men of Letters’?” Sabriel asked, reading it out.

“No,” he called back. “There aren’t any left, they all died out. We’re just hunters. Our grandfather was a member. Oh, hey, he’d be your great-grandfather. We’re legacies.”

“Do I have grandparents?”

Sam brought several books over and set them on the table. “Maybe...God? Technically? None on our side though. Dean is the only family I have left. Well, Cas I guess, and there’s a prophet named Kevin we’re close with, we sent him to Branson for some R and R. Also there’s a woman named Charlie we see a lot but she’s on her own adventure far away from here, that’s a whole long story. Dean’s blood though. Oh, and you of course.”

Sabriel shifted uncomfortably. “Listen, Mr. Winchester--”

“Sam,” the hunter said immediately. “Or, you know, you could call me Dad or something, totally your call.”

“Right,” he said, not looking up. “Look, I really appreciate you finding me and Destiel and promising to help us escape from Naomi. If Mamuel had found us first we’d probably be stuck in heaven again by now. But I know you didn’t sign up for this. You don’t, uh,  _ owe _ me anything. I’ve only ever wanted to be free. Once we are warded against being found I can find somewhere to go. I’d like to be able to visit Destiel, assuming he chooses to stay with Castiel, which seems likely.”

Sam frowned. “I mean, if that’s what you want to do I won’t stop you but...You just got here. Lots of people don’t plan for kids but have one anyway. Our situation is a little unique, but I’d love to get to know you. Like, what do you like to do? Why’d you escape? I want to know everything.”

“I don’t really know what I like. I have some instinctual knowledge, but I don’t know where it comes from. I’ve never been anything but a prisoner.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Sabriel thought a moment. “I like sunrise. I saw one this morning.”

“Okay,” Sam smiled, nodding. “We’ll start there. We’ll catch the next one.”

“What are these for?” he asked, pointing down at the books.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said picking one up and opening it to a bookmark. “We’re warding against angels. We don’t usually keep them up because it makes it impossible for Cas to pop in and out, but as long as he is still inside it won’t affect him. That way they can’t track you here. These should work, come on.”

Sam lead Sabriel back to the main room. There was high-pitched giggling echoing through the hall the whole way. Destiel was laying flat on the table in front of Castiel, and at first Sabriel panicked. It looked like the angel was carving into him, but the child’s laughing stopped him from attacking. His fists balled up in apprehension, but Destiel turned to him with a smile. “Look, Sabe, he’s coloring on me!”

“You must stop wiggling, Son,” Castiel said. He tried to sound stern, but his grin betrayed him. “The sigil must be perfect to be effective.”

“But it tickles,” the boy insisted.

Dean walked carefully around the front of the table. “How about I hold your hands, Kid? Cas will hold your feet and maybe you won’t be able to squirm so much.”

“Okay, Uncle Dean,” the boy said, stretching his hands out. Sam knew his brother very well, and he saw the uncomfortable look pass the man’s features. The younger man shook the look off and held the boy’s hands.

“Why are you doing that?” Sabriel asked, peering over Castiel’s shoulder at the lines he was carefully drawing.

“Angel warding. They are able to track you now as they can track humans, but with this it will be impossible. It’s not a permanent fix, we’ll probably have to get you tattoos when you’re a bit older.”

“This’ll make him invisible to angels?” Dean asked.

“I can do that already,” Destiel said. The child vanished.

Dean jumped back and Castiel paused with the marker in the air. “Woah!” the hunter said. “What? How? He’s invisible?!”

Sabriel nodded. “Yeah, he’s good at that.”

“It’s not that unusual, Dean. You remember when you found out I had been spying on you and Sam? I was essentially just there as a wavelength, invisible to the human eye.”

“Right,” Dean nodded, clearly still freaked out. “Uh, but it’s hard to draw on an invisible kid, so why don’t you come on back, Tiger?”

“Okay,” the boy said, reappearing immediately.

“Any other surprises?” Dean asked Sabriel.

“He is strong,” Sabriel said. “I saw four angels try to move him when he didn’t want to move. They couldn’t even budge him. I can fly, and move things if I need to.”

“He’s going to kick my ass at hide and seek.” Dean took a deep breath, trying to change the subject. “What do you like to eat?” he asked the boy below him.

“Hamburgers!” Destiel said.

Dean nodded approvingly. “Smart kid. Cas, why don’t you throw an antipossession symbol on there too. Might as well cover all our bases.”

“Good idea,” he nodded.

“Can that be blue? I like blue,” Destiel said.

“Sure,” Castiel nodded. “The lines are what’s important.”

Sabriel held up a book as Sam copied the symbol out of it onto a wall. “This will keep us off the angels’ radar,” he explained.

“Wait to put the final mark on, Sam,” Castiel said. He finished up Destiel’s sigils and motioned for Sabriel to sit in front of him. “I am going to have to make a run for clothing and other supplies, and I have to be able to get back in.” He began to draw the same sigils on Sabriel’s abdomen. “Is there any particular clothing you would like?”

Sabriel balked. “I’ve never worn anything else.”

“I will bring options. I think it is best for Destiel to stay here.” He glanced at Dean, but the boy was crawling up Sabriel’s back. He sat on the teen’s shoulders and nodded at Castiel.

“I’ll stay with Sabe, Daddy.”

“Of course,” the angel said, but his eyes darted back to Dean. “I will return.” He disappeared.

Sam’s phone rang. He read off the name and nodded at Dean as he walked off. “It’s Jody, I’m going to let her know we got them.”

Dean stood up and clapped his hands. “So, we got some time to kill, then. What do kids like? Cartoons?”

The hybrids stared at him blankly.

“You’ve never heard of cartoons. Right. I mean… not even Scooby Doo?”

They shook their heads.

“We’ve got some work to do.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Castiel returned with shopping bags along his arms and the fraudulent credit card Dean had given him in his pocket. He’d had the piece of plastic for months, but until now hadn’t seen a decent reason to use it. Now he had a very good reason, and it terrified him.

How did one be a father? At one time he thought he knew that relationship dynamic very well. He knew he had a father that was powerful and created him lovingly, but he had never seen him. He was sure that if he ever truly needed anything, his father would be there to help him. Then when things seemed the worst he searched for him, but help never came. Surely he couldn’t be that kind of father.

Since living with humans his idea of fatherhood had changed to something more hands on, but he was not sure that was better. When Sam and Dean spoke of John Winchester it was usually in pride, but he could see there was also pain and anger there. Was that the inevitable conclusion to raising a child? Would Destiel one day speak of him in hushed tones with a drink in his hand and insist he had done ‘the best he could’?

Besides the emotional bond he was afraid of screwing up, he also wondered how an angel could logically take care of a child. Did Destiel eat and sleep as much as a human? What about education? At any rate he realized that at least the next year of his life he was going to have to be much more mindful of his own safety so he could remain alive for his son. He didn’t have a job or even a house, though he suspected Dean and Sam would insist they could stay in the bunker long term. Dean. He’d almost forgotten the heaviest thought on his mind. What role was Dean going to take in their son’s life? The man said he was going to be okay with this, given time, but perhaps this was too weird for a human to deal with. There was no way Dean would give up hunting for them. What if he told Destiel he was his father and then let himself get fatally injured? At least he was technically ‘providing’ for them, he thought, feeling the card in his pocket.

The main room of the bunker was empty as he set his bags on the table. He pulled a bottle out of the bag and slipped it into his pocket before finishing up the sigil on the wall to prevent other angels from entering. He heard voices from down the hall and followed them until he found a small living area consisting of a few sofas and a television. The fears crowding his mind eased away at what he saw. 

A brightly colored television program was on the small screen. Destiel sat in front of the television on Dean’s lap with a bowl of cereal in his small hands, eyes wide as he watched the cartoon intensely. Dean had his own bowl off to the side, munching absently on sugary flakes. Sabriel and Sam sat at a table behind the sofa, talking quietly while they drank coffee and ate from a salad dish. 

Dean nodded at Cas when he saw him. “Hey Man, Des has never seen Scooby Doo. Can you believe that?”

“Hi Daddy,” Destiel said absently, never taking his eyes off the screen.

“What’s Scooby Doo?” he asked, plopping down behind Dean.

“It’s a story about a beast that learns how to talk but no one is afraid of him for some reason,” Destiel said. “The beast is funny. Also you have to eat cereal while you watch it.”

Dean shrugged. “Close enough.”

Castiel pulled the bottle from his coat and handed it to the boy. “I got you this while I was out.”

“Honey!” the boy screeched happily. He poured it over his cereal before taking another bite. “Uncle Dean, do you want honey?”

“No thanks, Buddy,” he said, trying not to look disgusted.

“Hey Cas,” Sam called, “come look at this.”

Sam had a piece of paper in front of him with strange words written on it. Castiel read it, tilting his head in confusion. 

Anraziel

Mamuel

Leeriel

Rumandriel

Sabriel

Destiel

“Sabriel says this is the army the angels are building,” Sam explained. “We figure they’re naming the hybrids after their parents, since his name is just mine and Gabriel squished together. Do you recognize any angel names?”

“Raziel may be the first one. The one we saw in the salvage yard has to be Michael’s son.”

“Mamuel is the only other one of us on Earth,” Sabriel said. “He spoke to me today, inside my head. I didn’t even know he could do that.”

“The other two could be trickier, there are a lot of heavenly names that end like that. What do they look like?”

“They are both small. Leeriel has dark skin, and Rumandriel has yellow hair.”

“That sounds like Uriel and and Samandriel. Though I have no idea where the other half of their names came from.”

“Other hunters maybe? It would explain why their teaching them hunters are dangerous, that way they don’t seek them out. I’ll look through our contacts and try to figure it out, they deserve to know if they have children being held prisoner somewhere and they might be willing to help us save them.”

Sabriel cocked his head to the side. It had never really occurred to him to try and save the other soldiers. Destiel was his only priority other than himself, and no one besides himself had ever made any attempt at leaving. He doubted they would even if given the option. “They will not come willingly,” he told them.

“Why not?” his father asked. “You did.”

“I am...difficult. The others did not want to escape.”

“They might choose to, if they knew they had the option.”

Sabriel narrowed his eyes. “They are dangerous, and once they are at full power they will come after us. Hunters are the enemy we…  _ they _ are preparing to destroy. It is smarter to just kill them before they are fully grown.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “They’re just kids, and they haven’t hurt anyone yet. Cas said the one we saw today had never killed anyone, he was innocent.”

Sabriel snorted. “He came close to killing me many times. Isn’t this what hunters do? You neutralize threats to humans.”

“We save people,” Sam said.

“Many people will die if the war is not prevented.”

“They deserve a chance. Everyone deserves a chance. Cas, is there any way we could get them a message? Something the angels can’t overhear?”

“I will look into it,” Castiel promised.

Sabriel shifted around in annoyance. “Fine, but it will be a waste of time. They will report the message immediately to Naomi.”

“We have to try,” Sam said finally.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by a loud yawn. Destiel stretched, his eyes drooping over his cereal. “Are vampires real?” he asked, pointing to the villain on the screen.”

“Uh...Yes,” Dean said finally.

“Oh. Do they look like that?”

“No.”

“Can they come here?”

Dean cleared his throat as Castiel shot him a worried look. “Look Buddy, I’ve gotta’ tell you something. Yes, some monsters are real, and they’re mean. But me and Uncle Sam, it’s our job to get rid of monsters. They won’t come here because they’re scared of us.”

“Oh. Good,” the boy said. Castiel picked him up.

“Come along, Son, I believe it is time for bed. I will find you an empty room and watch over you.”

Destiel seemed to be too tired to argue and just laid his head against Castiel’s shoulder as he carried him. He heard Sam chuckle at Dean behind him. “Dude, you said the same thing to me when I asked if werewolves were real, remember?”

Castiel froze, suddenly realizing how silly his fears had been. There was one positive fatherly relationship he has observed while on Earth, and it was staring him right in the face. He did not want to treat Destiel the way John Winchester treated his sons. What he wanted was the relationship between  _ Sam and Dean _ . Dean would do anything for his brother, from small things like bringing him food to huge sacrifices, like the demon deal he had made to keep him alive. Dean was already a father, just not in title.

“What, Cas?” Dean asked.

Castiel realized he was staring at the hunter. How could he have doubted whether he would be a good father? “Um, I was just wondering if perhaps Sabriel would like me to show him an empty room as well.”

“Yes,” Sabriel said, quickly standing from the table. He gave a passing nod to his father as he followed the angel.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room Sabriel chose was not large or glamorous by any means, but compared to the small box he had slept in his whole life the space seemed enormously empty. There were no guards outside his door to keep him inside and others out. He knew Destiel was safe, and that they’d be safe tomorrow, which was more security than he had ever had. Still, he found it difficult to go to sleep.

He’d never experienced insomnia before, and as he stared up at the brick ceiling he wondered how he got to sleep normally. Most nights he simply blacked out and woke when the alarms sounded. Never once in his life did he remember struggling to find unconsciousness.

_ Slowly, very slowly, he began to drift off. The room around him seemed to melt away and he was suddenly sitting on a bench in the park again, watching Destiel play on the swing. Castiel pushed the laughing child, and Dean sat off to the side watching them. Sam Winchester was walking down the sidewalk towards him. _

__ _ “Sabe?” the image of the man asked him. “Would you like to try the swing? Or the slide? You can always choose.” _

__ _ He looked up at the man. Why did he seem so tall? Sabriel looked down at himself and realized he was little, just a child as young as Destiel. Sam reached down and picked him, carrying him towards the playground... _

Sabriel woke with a start. Logically he knew what he had just experienced was a dream. He’d dreamt before, when he was a newborn, but hadn’t in so long that he’d forgotten what it was like. He felt his anger building. Naomi. Of course he should have been dreaming, of course he should have had to struggle to fall asleep before now. They had to have been giving him something to knock him out and keep him dreamless. Now after twenty-four hours whatever they were slipping him seemed to be leaving his system.

There was a soft knock at his door. He glanced up to see a weary looking Castiel peeking his head in. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late, Sabriel. It seems Destiel--”

“Sabe!” Destiel said happily, pushing past the angel. The boy crawled right up into the bed and laid down next to the teen. “G’night Sabe.” He was asleep in a matter of seconds.

“He seems to have trouble sleeping without you.”

“They were drugging us, I think,” he said honestly, tucking the boy in beside him. “I’m struggling to sleep as well.”

“I will stand guard outside your door.”

Sabriel blanched. “Please don’t, we'll be fine. We are warded, right? The angels can’t find the bunker. We will call to you if we need you.”

Castiel looked worriedly at the sleeping boy, but nodded. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a small brown package. “Um, I got you something as well while I was out. But you cannot tell Sam or Dean you have it. I think they would be embarrassed.”

Sabriel pulled open the packaging. “ _ Supernatural _ by Carver Edlund?”

“A prophet. This is the Winchester gospel. You have been given a lot of misinformation about hunters, I think it is best you see what they are truly like. There are many other books to the series, but this is the beginning,” he lowered his voice. “You should know, your father is a hero. There may be a few parts in the books where you are unsure about that, but know that in the end he always makes the right decision. For what it’s worth I do not know which of you is right about the other children in heaven’s army, but I respect his willingness to give them an option.”

“Thank you,” Sabriel nodded. “I will read it.”

Castiel nodded and left the two alone. Sabriel flipped open the cover and read a few pages, but quickly felt himself getting tired. He laid back and soon the room began to melt again. 

_ He was back in the park and Sam was pushing him on the swing. The sun was bright and the air was cool. Destiel swung beside him, reaching out a hand to take his. It was peaceful. Still, he was very aware he was dreaming. He had no childhood to remember, this had never been and never would be possible. _

_ Destiel’s hand was suddenly gone from his. He swung back all the way without meeting Sam’s hands and realized that the man was no longer behind him. He was completely alone. He stretched his hands out in front of him and realized he was himself again, no longer a child reliving false memories. _

_ There were footsteps behind him. _

_ “Hey, Kid. About time you start dreaming again.” _

_ He turned. There was a man approaching him. He was shorter than Sabriel with blonde hair and bright eyes. ‘Eyes like honey’ he thought as Destiel’s words echoed back to him. _

_ The man popped the sucker out of his mouth and smiled. “My name is Gabriel. I’m your father.” _

_ \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ _

Sam wandered the halls in the dark toward the kitchen, using his phone as a flashlight. He’d given up on sleep and planned to slip quietly into the kitchen to have milk or water or anything he could find to try to make him tired. There was far too much on his mind tonight.

He was surprised to see Dean still sitting at the table, drinking quietly from a beer. He nodded when he saw his brother, but said nothing. The light was off, the only illumination was from Sam’s phone. The taller man pulled another beer from the fridge and sat down across from him, examining the worried lines on Dean’s face.

“Have you even been to bed?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Dean finally sighed, burying his face in his hands. “The kid is mine.”

Sam stared at him. “You mean Destiel?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Dean wrinkled his forehead at him. “ _ Oh _ ? That’s all you’ve got?”

“Well I mean...I kinda figured that out.”

“What? How?” he asked incredulously.

“Look at him, Dean. I’ve lived with you as a kid, he looks more like you than I did. Plus we’ve been decoding the hybrid’s names, the ‘De’ had to come from somewhere.”

“Well I sure as hell didn’t figure it out,” Dean spat, shaking his head. “Cas had to tell me.”

“Are you guys going to… share him? Like an ‘every other weekend’ kind of deal?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shook his head. “I mean, I’m no deadbeat. I can’t lie to him. He’s going to find out eventually anyway, and then he’d hate me for not telling him. But what am I gonna’ do, teach him to hunt like Dad taught us? He’s only got a  _ year _ , Sam, one year to be a kid. If I do nothing, he might be able to enjoy it. Winchesters are cursed, we don’t get to be kids.”

“I don’t think we’re cursed.”

“Are you kidding me, Dude? You’re like Harry Potter but with more dead girlfriends.”

“Sure were not normal, but considering where they came from I don’t think they’re looking for normal. Maybe it’s just important they’re happy.”

“For one year?”

“Just because he’s getting older doesn’t mean he’s going to die anytime soon, you’ve got time Dean. Hell, I’d kill for one year. You may have noticed but I’m a little late in that department.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Right. Sorry. I guess Sabriel doesn’t get even that. He’s a good guy, though.”

“They’ve been shoving that crap in his head about war and death since he was born,” Sam grimaced. “I should have been there to stop them. I don’t know if he understands empathy.”

“He does.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he looks at Destiel the way I used to look at you when we were little. If they’d really gotten to him he wouldn’t have even bothered to save him.”

Sam thought a moment. “So when are you going to tell him?”

“Tomorrow. That’s what I told Cas. He deserves to know.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

_ Sabriel said nothing, but the archangel just waited for him to speak. Finally he found his voice. “You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.” _

_ “We talked about this already. Do you really not remember?” _

_ “No,” Sabriel said, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve never seen you before.” _

_ “You have. When you were a newborn, I visited your dreams every night. You never seemed to retain them, though. Then freaking Naomi got those damn pills into your water supply...It’s been like five months since you had a dream, you know that? Still I thought something had to have gotten through.” _

_ Sabriel shook his head. _

_ “Really? ‘You have to get out of here’, ‘find the Moose’, ‘Naomi is evil’, ‘get to Earth’, none of those messages stuck?” _

_ Sabriel felt himself go pale, if that was possible in a dream. Of course those thoughts were familiar, they were his own. He repeated them to himself as he stared at his cell walls, plotting ways to get out of the prison he’d been born in. He’d never really stopped to think about where they’d come from. He’d hated Naomi since the beginning, he thought everything else had just been an extension of that. _

_ Gabriel sighed, plopping himself down on the swing next to his son. “Here we go again, I guess. Yes, I’m dead, but I’m not. To get you, they had to use a piece of my grace. I’m an archangel, a little piece goes a long way. I am alive because you are alive, but I’m stuck in here. Now listen up, and try not to forget it this time. This war that Naomi is preparing for? It’s bigger than you think it is.” _

_ “They want to wipe out the hunters.” _

_ Gabriel snorted. “Hunters, sure, but that’s just the beginning. Killing the hunter they made you from was going to be your rite of passage before the main event started.” _

_ “What main event.” _

_ “Naomi doesn’t want to rule heaven, she wants Earth. The only way to do that is to restart the apocalypse. There’s no more archangels left to fight over the earth’s remains anymore, so she’s recasting the roles.” _

_ “What does that mean?” _

_ “She doesn’t want you to be her general, Son. She wants you to be Lucifer.” _


	6. Chapter 6

I woke before sunrise again. I checked on Des who was sleeping soundly, then made sure our warding sigils were unsmudged. I looked over all the bags of clothes left for me and thought they looked too intimidating to tackle so early, so I just threw on my old pajamas. I took the book Castiel had given me and slowly made my way outside of the bunker.

I had to hike a little ways up the hill to find a good spot to see the horizon. Early dawn set in around me as I read absently and thought about my dream.

I could remember him this time. Whether or not he had ever tried to contact me before I still wasn't sure of, but I was convinced the archangel Gabriel had visited my dreams. He’d warned me of Naomi's true intentions. Then before the dream ended, said one more thing. Don’t tell the moose.

“Sam?” I’d asked. “Why not?”

“He has a history with Lucifer. We can't be sure he'd be on our side.”

The story I read was sad, and it was hard to remember that it was supposed to be about the people I'd met yesterday. Family. I was reading about my grandfather being missing when I heard fast footsteps approaching me.

I jumped to my feet, ready to fight, but it was only Sam. He was barely dressed and out of breath, stooping over to clutch his knee as he stared out at the horizon. 

“I missed it,” he moaned, nodding to the fading sunrise. “I’m usually up before this. Just had a long night.”

“It’s not completely over,” I assured him, getting comfortable again. “There will be another tomorrow.”

He sat down next to me. “That's not the point. I told you we’d see this one.”

We sat in silence as we watched the sun get higher in the sky. The yellows and oranges faded to greys and blues. 

“How many people have you saved as a hunter?” I asked.

He looked confused. “I don't know. I’ve never counted.”

“Then why choose to be one? If that is what is important to you I'd imagine you'd keep track of it.”

“It's just what my family does. Our family. There's been Winchester's and Campbell's fighting monsters since there were monsters to fight.”

“The family business,” I mused.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You're not… Oh no, you're reading those books, aren't you? I hate those things. Where did you even find them?”

I ignored the question to spare Castiel. “Is it true you were my age when you were cursed.”

Sam nodded. “Six months old. I was quite a bit smaller than you, though.”

“It is difficult to have your fate decided at such a young age,” I agreed.

Sam shook his head. “Azazel didn't decide anything for me. He planned for me and bunch of other people to be his half demon soldiers, but we refused.”

“I hadn’t gotten that far,” I confessed. Uncertainty sat heavily on my shoulders. Indecision was new to me. In heaven I always knew my goal, but now it had become blurry. I told myself the ultimate mission was still in place; to keep myself and Destiel safe and free despite all costs.

“I suppose we better head inside,” Sam said finally, moving to stand.

“Father, I need to tell you something,” I said finally, testing out the word. He paused.

“Oh. Yeah, of course, Sabe. What's on your mind?”

“The archangel Gabriel came to me last night in a dream.”

“You dreamt about Gabriel? I thought you never even met him.”

“He was not a part of my dream, he was literally visiting it. In some way he is still alive, inside my grace. Do you believe me?”

Sam thought a moment before nodding. “Yes. What did he say?”

“He said that the war is bigger than we thought. He said Naomi wants to restart the apocalypse...using me as Lucifer.” I watched his reaction carefully.

“Wow. That’s...wow. That's good to know. When we get in touch with our contacts we won't just be risking a mission to stop Naomi, we’ll be stopping Armageddon. Again.”

“Are you angry?”

“Angry? Why?”

“Gabriel said I should not tell you heaven’s plans because you had a history with Lucifer. He said you may not be on my side when the time comes.”

Sam frowned. “That’s rich coming from the literal Trickster.” He stopped when he saw the worried expression on my face. “Don't get me wrong, Gabriel made some good choices toward the end. Seriously though, he has a history of not being able to trust his father or brothers. When things got tough in heaven he ran. Dean and I may not be the poster boys for a perfect functioning family but we’re like the Brady bunch compared to that mess. Dean didn't give up on me when I was possessed by the actual devil, we're definitely not ditching you because they want you as his substitute.”

Sam clapped me on the back as he led me back inside the bunker. I heard Destiel before I saw him, groaning grumpily as Castiel carried him into the main room. I noticed he was finally in ‘normal’ clothes, 

“Perhaps you would like some cereal? I know Dean told you it was for cartoons but many humans eat it in the mornings.”

Destiel just growled into Castiel’s shoulder.

I smiled at the angel. “I should have warned you, he is an angry waker.”

Castiel nodded and sat, letting the boy have time. Dean walked in wearing the same clothes he had yesterday, dragging his feet with coffee in his hand. He held two folders in his hand, and as I sat down across from him he pushed one at me. He held up a piece of plastic at me and there was a flash of light. A thick card came out of the bottom. He shook it and held it up to me, and I was confused to see my own face looking back at me from an image.

“There ya’ go. A little cutting and pasting and you’ll exist.” Dean opened the folder and cut my face out of the image. “I'm making you seventeen. That makes Sam eighteen when you were born if anyone asks.” He handed me the card.

I examined the piece of plastic, wondering what the significance of it was. It listed a fake year of my birth, and gave an address to some place in Kansas I had never heard of. It was interesting to see my full name in print for the first time.

“Sabriel Singer Winchester?” I asked.

“I picked that,” Sam admitted bashfully. “If you don't like it we can make you another one, we just thought it'd be good to have identification short term.”

“I don't understand the purpose of a third name, but this one seems fine. What does this card indicate?”

“It’s a driver's licence. That does  _ not  _ mean you can drive,” Dean warned, “especially not my car. Not yet anyway.”

Destiel slowly looked up from Cas’s shoulder and reached his hand out for my license. I smiled and handed it over to him for inspection. The boy turned it over in his hands and I wondered if he could actually read any of it. “Do I get one?”

“Uh, not yet, you’re a little too young for that,” Dean said. “I made you up a fake birth certificate though. You’re five years old.”

The boy smiled weakly. “Do I have three names?”

“How does cereal sound now, Destiel?” Castiel asked, changing the subject.

“Okay,” he murmured.

Castiel carried the boy off to find breakfast. Dean leaned over and whispered something to Sam. The taller man nodded. “Uh, Sabe, let’s go look through those clothes Cas bought you yesterday. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

By the time Castiel had Destiel set up with his breakfast the boy seemed to be back to normal. He plopped down excitedly next to Dean and poured a generous amount of honey over his sugary flakes before digging in. Castiel was about to ask where the others went, but quickly understood after Dean shot him a pointed look. The angel sat down, nodding approvingly.

“So, uh, Destiel buddy, we need to talk about something,”  Dean said. 

“Did I do something bad?” the boy asked.

“No, Son,” Castiel assured him quickly. “It's a happy thing.”

“You asked if you have three names like Sabriel,” Dean continued. “Well, you do. Your full name is Destiel Robert Winchester. If that’s okay with your Dad?” He glanced at the angel who nodded excitedly.

“Like Sabe!” the boy said. “Now people will know we're family.”

“Do you understand what your last name means?”

Destiel shook his head.

“It means that I’m your...Father. The angels used me to make you.”

Destiel tilted his head and Dean tried to stop from snorting. The kid looked more like Cas than ever before with his 'I do not understand’ face on. “But Daddy is my father.”

“That's right,” Castiel nodded, “and I'm not going anywhere. However, Dean is your parent as well.”

“I'm not going anywhere either,” the hunter promised. “I’ll level with you, Des, I don't really know how to be a dad. I didn't have the best role model when I was your age. But that middle name I gave you, it's from a guy who always listened to me and cared whether I was safe and happy. So I'm gonna’ try to be like Bobby. Cas and I are gonna make the most of all the time we have with you, and we'll keep you away from the angels until your old enough to protect yourself. That sound good? Got any questions?”

Destiel's face scrunched up in thought. “How come Sabe doesn't have two daddies?”

“That is difficult to answer,” Cas said slowly. “We will tell you when you're older.”

“Are you still Uncle Dean?”

“I was thinking about that. If you want, you could call me Papa so you don't get me mixed up with Cas.”

The boy smiled. “Okay Papa. Can I go watch Scooby Doo now?”

Dean nodded and the boy ran off. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the sly half smile Castiel was throwing him. “What?”

“I’m… proud of you, Dean.”

“Alright, Dude. No chick flick moments,” he shrugged him off, but it didn't take the grin off his own face. “He's a good kid.”

“How did you and Sam decide which child got Bobby's first name?”

“Flipped a coin.”

“It seems appropriate.”

Dean went quiet for a moment. “Do you think we can really do this? Raise a kid together? I can barely hold myself together, now I've got a whole other person to fuck up.”

“He's going to be fine Dean,” Castiel promised placing a hand on the man's shoulder. The hunter looked over at him and tried to look like he believed him.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi's hands came down hard on the desk, hard enough to make the young man jump. He said nothing as she laid into him; he just held his head down contritely, occasionally saying 'No Ma’am’ or Yes Ma’am’.

“You're first assignment, Boy. An easy, simple job. Just to bring Sabriel home. And you failed.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Worse than that,” she spat, “you allowed the traitor Castiel to look into your soul! He knows you're Michael's son. Our entire operation is compromised! There has been no sign of Sabriel or the spare since then. Do you know what that means, Mamuel?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“It means Castiel has found them! Sabriel does not know how to ward himself against us, who else would search him out? Do you understand who Sabriel must be with right now?”

“No Ma’am.”

She lowered her voice and hissed at him, “Hunters.”

Mamuel flinched, staring at her with wide eyes. “Surely he's not foolish enough to seek out the enemy, Ma’am.”

“They are charismatic,” Naomi said, her voice now deadly calm. “Sabriel is such an innocent boy. I'm sure they have convinced him they have his best interests at heart. When the time comes they will dispose of him. We must find him before that happens. We need Sabriel. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Mamuel said, feeling shaken.

“You're going to try again. You're going to continue to look for him until he is back home, safe and sound. Kill whoever you like, this is our top priority. You're dismissed.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he choked out. 

Two guards led him away to the recreation room where the others were already enjoying their break. The younger two had taken to training with the provided weapons during their spare time, and he was secretly pleased to see them finally putting effort into their work. Anraziel sat waiting for him, drumming her fingers against the table.

“What did she say?” she asked immediately as the man sat down. 

“I'm being given another chance to find him,” Mamuel said. He stretched out his hands and tried to stop them from trembling.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” she said with a frown. “What's wrong?”

“She said Sabriel may be with...hunters.”

“Voluntarily?”

He nodded.

“What an idiot,” she shook her head. “No surprise there. We always knew there was something off about him.”

“I'm not so sure. You saw him that day, he threw me across the room like paper. He  _ flew _ , Anraziel, we haven't even been able to accomplish that yet. We heard him speak.”

“You can teach a parrot to say a few words, that doesn't mean it can understand them. I say good riddance. His disobedience would have weakened our team in battle. If he wants to run off to the enemy let him. If they try to use him in battle he’ll just be a liability.”

“Sabriel is a part of our team, Raz. A good leader would never leave a man behind.”

“A good leader knows that a unit is only as strong as its weakest link. Where's all this coming from anyway? You've beaten him to death’s door dozens of times, you know how useless he is as a soldier.”

“We fight to make each other stronger. It was working, too. He was getting strong enough to beat me. Sabriel may be petulant, but he is our brother. If he has truly fallen in with hunters we have to save him.”

“They didn't drag him out of here kicking and screaming, he chose to leave. Even if you find him he won't come willingly.”

“I will make him see reason,” Mamuel vowed, nodding to himself. “Casualties be damned.”

__________________

“Rawr!” Dean screamed, hopping out from behind a doorway. He held plastic fangs in his mouth and was crouched down like a dog as he stalked quickly toward Destiel.

The boy giggled as he ran away, darting into the main room and onto a table where Sabriel was trying to read. 

“I'm a big scary werewolf!” Dean called thickly through the fangs. “How are you going to stop me?”

“With…” the boy thought, resting his hand on Sabriel's head. “Silver!” 

“Oh no, not silver!” Werewolf Dean howled. “I hate Silver! You know what else I hate?”

“Angel blades!” Destiel said proudly.

“But you don't have one of those!”

“I can call my Daddy and he’ll bring one,” the boy said smugly, crossing his arms.

Sam walked in, snorting at Dean as he walked by. “You're a vampire today?”

“M’a werewolf,” he mumbled, drooling a bit over the plastic fangs.

“You don't look like a werewolf,” Sam said, propping his feet up on the table.

“I shaved,” he said sarcastically.

“I think you're a good werewolf, Papa,” Destiel assured him.

It had been two weeks since they boys had first come to the bunker, and things had settled into a new normalcy that neither brother had ever experienced before. Twice they'd found potential cases; possible ghoul activity in Austen and a small vampire nest in Detroit. The two had decided together to call Garth and have him send some of his contacts out to deal with the problems instead of going themselves. There was just so much to do in so little time, and with the angels being suspiciously quiet they figured it was best to keep a low profile.

That hadn't kept hunting off of their minds, however. Everyday Dean thought of a new way to try to teach his son about the dangers ahead of him without freaking him out. The Nerf guns he'd bought for him weren't nearly as heavy as real weapons, but they seemed to be helping his aim. The boy was picking up knowledge quickly, and if making himself look ridiculous a few times a day was going to help that Dean had no objections.

Unfortunately his knowledge wasn't the only thing growing. Only the day before Castiel had measured his son against a doorway and both men had been dismayed to find he had grown nearly a full inch since they'd met him. Castiel had tried to assure Dean that if two weeks was equivalent to half a year then he was right on track, but it still made him nervous.

“I think you would be the expert on what werewolves look like, Father,” Sabriel said with half a smile.

Sam shook his head wearily at the book in his son’s hand. “I wish you wouldn't read those. They're completely inaccurate.”

“So you didn't lay with and then kill a werewolf?”

Sam huffed. “I'm going to burn your entire bookshelf in your sleep.”

There was a series of specific knocks on the door to the bunker.

“Daddy!” Destiel said, hopping down from the table to follow Dean to the door. 

As always the hunter peered through the peephole to make sure it was Castiel alone before letting him in. They had all agreed it was best to keep the angel warding up, so he'd been having to use the door like everyone else. Dean only had time to welcome him back before his son pushed past him.

Destiel was in Castiel's arms immediately, showing off small versions of cloaking sigils he'd been practicing on his arm with marker. “Look, Daddy, Uncle Sam is helping me learn how to draw important stuff.”

“Excellent job,” Castiel smiled, awkwardly trying to hold the bags of food he'd brought without dropping the boy.

Dean took the bags from him gently. “Thanks for making the dinner run. Des really wanted a burger.”

“You're welcome, Dean,” he said earnestly, maintaining eye contact for several seconds longer than was necessary.

Sam coughed audibly. The small looks between the two men had always made him a bit uncomfortable, but they seemed to be getting more dramatic in the last few weeks.

“We played games!” Destiel continued, seemingly wanting to give Castiel a rundown of every minute he'd missed. “There was one where you cut into a human whiles he's awake and if you do it wrong he screams.”

“Operation,” Dean mumbled.

“That sounds...fun,” the angel said carefully, raising an eyebrow at Dean. 

“It's not as traumatic as it sounds,” he promised.

Castiel dug through the bags and handed the boy two boxes. “Why don't you go eat with Sabriel? I need to talk with Papa and Uncle Sam.”

“Okay,” the boy nodded and went scurrying away as Sam came to join them. “Hey Sabe, can I have your candy bar again?” he called.

“What's going on, Cas?” Dean asked in a low voice.

“It's the angels. I think they're on the move.”

“Where?” Sabriel asked suddenly behind them.

The three men shifted uncomfortably.

“Please. I need to know.”

“Minnesota,” Castiel admitted. “Twenty people inside a church for choir practice were found dead with their eyes burned out and stab wounds in their chests.”

“Doesn't mean it's related to the boys,” Dean said. “ Could just be angels being winged dicks.”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “The name of the church is  _ His Awaited Return. _ ”

“They're trying to send me a message,” Sabriel said gravely. “So much for innocent souls.”

“Are you thinking we need to check this out, look for witnesses?” Dean asked.

“I want to go,” Sabriel said immediately.

“Just hang on,” Sam said. “This smells like a trap. We've been safe in the bunker. There could be angels crawling all over the place, and what information could we learn that would make it worth it?”

“We need to know if the other hybrids are on Earth,” Sabriel argued. “This could be the start of the war.”

“You don't declare war on Mexico by attacking Canada,” Dean said. “ If they wanted to attack us they picked a weird target.”

“Perhaps they think we will come anywhere innocent people are being slaughtered,” Castiel said. “Historically that is a safe bet.”

“And who's going to stay behind?” Sam said, crossing his arms. They looked at him quizzically and he nodded back at the table where the younger boy was chowing down happily on his burger.

“Oh,” Dean said, sighing. “Sam is right. I'm not letting any of you go without backup, but someone has to stay with Des. What are we going to do, take him with us?”

Sabriel sighed and Sam knew he had found the argument to keep his son out of harm's way. “No, I suppose not. If they reach him they will take him to get to me, or worse. Fine, we don't investigate. But I want to be clear that when we have a real chance of learning something, I'm going with you. I'm not a child, I've been fighting these... _ winged dicks _ my whole life.”

“Fine,” Sam said, “but not alone.”

They went to sit down with Destiel to eat, but Dean pulled his brother in close to whisper to him. “We should be checking this out.”

“Not now,” Sam breathed. He looked at the son who was only now starting to listen to him, starting to trust him and understand what he'd been fighting for. “Just...not now.”

Sabriel tried to focus on the lighthearted conversation of his family, telling no one he could hear Mamuel’s voice clearly in his head. 

_ 'More will die, Sabriel. Their blood will be on your hands.’ _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, at last, time for some teenage angst and some shipping!

_ “How ya’ doin’ Kiddo?” Gabriel asked. I glanced around at the main room of the bunker, quickly realizing I was in a dream. _

_ “You know, I have a name,” I said. _

_ He snorted. “Yeah. ‘Sabriel.’ Poor kid, I would’ve thought of a much better name than that if I’d had the chance.” _

_ “You called yourself Loki, right? Didn’t I read that you named a child Jormungand? I think I got off easy.” _

_ “Oh, great,” Gabriel, said leaning back in his chair. “The Winchester sass is rubbing off on you. Give it a few months and you’ll be wearing nothing but plaid and being melodramatic about pastries. Have there been any more attacks?” _

_ “Yes. Every four days or so someone else is found with their eyes burned out. I think they are getting closer, finding ways around our warding to track us.” _

_ “What’s moose and company think?” _

_ “They think they are starting to train the younger hybrids. But…” _

_ “But you haven’t told them about Mamuel threatening you.” _

_ “How did you know that?” _

_ The angel snorted. “Kid, I live in your melon. You think I haven’t heard that stormtrooper’s voice echoing around in here? I know he keeps telling you these deaths are on you, but he’s wrong. You haven’t done anything wrong.” _

_ I shook my head. “If I had not escaped, all of those people would still be alive. That makes me responsible.” _

_ “That’s not true. They could be right, they could just be training them. How long has it been since you escaped?” _

_ “Shouldn’t you know that if you’re always in my head?” _

_ “I didn’t say always,” the archangel said quietly. “Sometimes I’m here, and then I’m not. It’s just darkness all around and time means nothing, and then suddenly I’m back here listening to the most boring soap opera of all time. By the way what the hell’s going on with Dean-o and my brother? I’m starting to get a weird will-they won’t-they vibe from them. I mean, they’re no Ross and Rachel but I’ll take what entertainment I can get.” _

_ “I don’t understand what that means,” I said truthfully. _

_ Gabriel sighed. “If I had my powers back I’d throw them into the plot of twilight and make them live out the entire movie before I let them out.” _

_ “Yes, I read about you killing Uncle Dean repeatedly and sticking them inside of the television. I believe they were trying to spare my feelings when they described you as a hero.” _

_ He laughed at me. “They’re alive, aren’t they? You see how undestroyed the Earth is? I helped with that.” _

_ “We’ve been here in the bunker for two months now,” I answered finally. _

_ “You look older,” he nodded, “and not just physically. You can’t let them get to you, Sabriel. The angels --” _

I woke up with a start when Destiel’s hand shook my shoulder. “Sabe, wake up! We’re going to the beach today.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Castiel held the small fish out for his son to examine. The fish wriggled in the water between his cupped hands, and Destiel reached one finger in to touch its head.

“How does this make a person?”

Castiel smiled. “It took many millions of years. Over time the species adapted to live on land and stand on two feet.”

“And you got to watch?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Yes.”

The boy turned to Dean who was looking around apprehensively. Castiel insisted on these little outings; he worried their son would think he was a prisoner in the bunker and not want to venture out of it when he was grown. Truth be told they could all use some fresh air. Destiel was growing quickly, Castiel had estimated he appeared to be about seven years old, and the angel had been scrambling to try to teach him as much as possible. Dean had been more worried about taking the kids out in public, and seemed to be on constant edge nowadays.

“Did you get to watch too, Papa?”

Dean shook his head. The boy still had trouble grasping that Dean was human. “No, I wasn’t around back then.”

Destiel nodded, obviously still confused. “Sabe?” he called. “Did you get to watch the fish grow?”

“I’m not much older than you, Des,” Sabriel said. He sat not far away from them on the beach, just staring out at the horizon. Sam had stayed back in the bunker today, still calling contacts around the country to warn other hunters that heaven was after them. Sabriel was surprised to find himself wishing the man had come with them.

Dean lifted Destiel onto his hip. “Should we go swimming again before we head back, Buddy? I don’t want you too tired out, there’s a movie on late tonight I want to watch with you.”

Castiel gave him an exasperated look. “Dean, I thought we agreed bedtime was nine o’clock.”

“It’s Ghostbusters, Cas. It’s a classic and we’ve got to--”

_ ‘I’ve found you.’ _

Sabriel’s heart skipped a beat as Mamuel’s words resonated around his skull. He had enough time to stand and take a step toward the others before the banishing spell was cast.

Castiel disappeared in a flash of light, the fish he was holding dropping into the air. Dean froze mid sentence as his son drooped against him, suddenly asleep. Sabriel dropped like a sack of bricks into the hot sand, immediately unconscious.

A young man with dark hair and a smile appeared, stalking straight for Sabriel. Dean recognized him immediately from the salvage yard. He laid Destiel carefully down in the sand and sprinted toward him, hand yanking out the knife he kept at all times from the pocket of his bathing suit. He jumped in front of his nephew, holding the knife out at the intruder. “I don’t want to hurt you, Kid! Just walk away!”

“Step aside,” Mamuel sneered.

“What did you do to them?”

“Angelic banishing spell, they’re only unconscious. You are Dean Winchester? I’ve been approved to offer you a deal. You give me that one,” he said, jabbing a finger toward Sabriel, “and you get to keep the spare.”

“The spare?”

“The boy, Destiel. He is of no further use to us, he’s barely a proper hybrid, too human, and has received no training. It’s an even trade.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Dean spat.

“They warned me you’d be illogical and barbaric,” Mamuel said, cracking his knuckles. “I think I’ll take  _ both _ of them, then. Let it be a lesson to you  _ hunters _ about who you are dealing with.”

Dean smirked. “You know what I think? I think if you could throw me across the beach like Sabriel you wouldn’t be wasting your time talking to me.”

The hybrid glared and his fist shot forward. Dean ducked, grabbing his arm and trying to use the leverage to bring the knife in. Mamuel dodged away, pulling an angel blade out of his sleeve and diving at the hunter. Dean kept pushing him back, knowing only one touch to Sabriel’s shoulder and the both of them could disappear. 

Mamuel pretended to stab forward and Dean took the bait, reaching for his hand. The man’s other side barrelled into Dean’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. The young man was not as strong as an angel, but he was definitely stronger than a human. Dean felt one of his ribs snap as Mamuel pinned him to the ground. He raised the angel blade over the hunter’s heart.

An earpeircing static noise echoed across the shoreline, making both men flinch hard. Dean had heard it only once before, but it had made an impression -- the sound of an angel’s true voice. He folded in on himself, trying to see where the sound was coming from. Down the beach came Destiel, a terrified expression on his small face as he ran towards them. His mouth was open in what looked like one long scream.

“Des, get back!” Dean tried to yell, but it was lost in the cacophony screeching from the boy’s mouth. Occasionally he heard what he thought might be an actual word in the mess like ‘Daddy’ and ‘emergency’.

Mamuel did not seem immune to the screech either. He backed away from Dean, holding his hands up to his ears. Dean brought the blade to his own arm and started to carve a banishing sigil as quickly as he could. He slapped his hand over it and the screeching came to an end. Destiel collapsed onto the sand again, but this time Mamuel did as well. 

Dean panted, feeling a trickle of blood come down from his ear. He picked up Destiel quickly, checking his pulse to make sure he was alright, and then did the same with his nephew. “Cas,” he called into the air, “as soon as you can get here, we need you.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

Mamuel’s head hurt, and he couldn’t remember where he was. His eyes felt so heavy, impossible to open. He had felt this once before, the first time he had failed to retrieve Sabriel. With a sinking feeling he realized the same thing must have happened this time. Heaven must have pulled him back and when he awoke he’d be facing another severe lecture from Naomi.

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” he heard someone ask. He frowned. He didn’t recognize this voice. He was pretty sure he knew all the voices of heaven. “Sabe woke up twenty minutes ago, he shouldn’t be much different, right?”

Another voice. “I think the banishing spell’s effectiveness hits hybrids according to how much angel is in their genetic makeup. You said he mentioned Destiel may be more human? That could be why he woke up so quickly.”

Mamuel blinked awake and then recoiled in horror. He knew everyone in here from his training on dangerous hunters. Dean Winchester stood in front of him, the boy Destiel wrapped tightly around him like he thought the man was going to disappear. Sam Winchester was not far behind, standing arms crossed and weapon at the ready. The traitor Castiel was close to his face, holding a stethoscope up to his chest. As he struggled back he felt the bindings on his wrists strapping him to a chair and whipped his head around.

“Where am I?” he barked.

“You’re in our dungeon and you’re gonna’ stay here until we figure out how you found us,” Dean growled. “Des,” he coughed as the boy’s arms tightened around his neck, “Papa’s okay, but I need to breathe.”

“Naomi will find me immediately,” Mamuel said, still struggling. He tried to fly out, a skill he had picked up in the past month, but found he could not. His eyes darted down to the ennochian scratchings around him.

There were footsteps from the other side of the room, and then suddenly  _ he _ came into view. Sabriel was here, apparently unharmed, fixing him with a cold stare. “If Naomi knew where we were, you would not have attacked us outside.” 

“Sabriel,” Mamuel sat up straighter. He was glad to see the other man in spite of the situation. The other hybrid did not seem to be in chains, and he’d been sitting so openly at the beach. Did they have him so brainwashed that he would not even try to escape in public? “Are they binding you with ennochian sigils as well? Or have they convinced you they do not intend to kill you?”

The question seemed to throw him off. “I am free.”

Mamuel scoffed. “You say that to me in a dungeon? Come back with me, Sabriel. We would have thought the slaughtering of innocent lives would be enough to convince you, but apparently Naomi overestimated you. What is it going to take to get you to put an end to this?” His eyes darted to Destiel. 

Sabriel pulled a knife from the wall and had it against Mamuel’s throat in an instant. “Don’t even look at him! What do you want from me?” he shouted. “Just leave me and my family alone!”

Sam put a heavy hand on Sabriel’s shoulder and pulled him back.

Sabriel shrugged the hand off, not letting go of Mamuel’s collar. “Father, every moment he is allowed to live makes it more likely that they will find us. We should kill him.”

“We’re not killing anyone yet,” the man insisted. “Besides, he might have information we can use.”

Mamuel spat through the air and it landed on Sam’s shirt. “I’d rather die than tell you anything.”

Sabriel lifted the knife as if to give him his wish, but Sam caught his arm and knocked the knife out of his grasp. “Sabe, go cool off.”

Sabriel scoffed. “He nearly killed Dean, he would have done the same to Destiel, and you just let him  _ live _ ?”

“Sabe, listen to me--” he tried to put his hand back on his son’s shoudler.

Sabriel pushed him away. “Don’t touch me, Sam!” He threw the knife and and it landed with a sharp clang on the other side of the room. Sabriel pushed past him and rushed out of the door. A moment later the loud slam of a door echoed back to them from Sabriel’s room.

\-------------------------------------

It was late, honestly far past Destiel’s bedtime, but Dean had insisted that Ghostbusters was a classic that was vital to his son’s education. Castiel relented and Destiel had been extremely excited about getting to stay up late with his parents. They’d offered to let Sam join them of course, but he had politely declined. The three of them rarely did anything alone together, and the man wanted to give them some space after the scare they had had that day. They knocked on Sabriel’s door but there was no answer, and eventually they had given up.

Before the boys had arrived at the bunker Dean had set up what he called a bat-cave, though the reference was lost on all but Sam. They’d arranged the small couch with pillows and blankets so that the boy could sit between them and popped two large bowls of popcorn to snack on. Destiel laughed excitedly at the ballroom scene while the heroes tried to wrangle Slimer, loudly explaining why that’s not how ghosts work and it would be much easier for them if they got some salt and iron together.

When the EPA agent came to inspect the facility Dean perked up. “Oh, Des, this is the best part.”

He glanced down and the boy was out cold with popcorn still in his hand.

“How long has he been out?” he asked the angel next to him.

“About ten minutes. He had quite a day, I don’t believe he had as much energy as he thought he did.”

“Oh,” Dean shrugged, grabbing the remote. “We can just shut it off I guess.”

“I’m enjoying the movie, Dean,” Castiel assured him. “Let’s finish it.”

Dean nodded and settled back into the couch. Destiel fidgeted grumpily in his sleep and fell across Dean’s lap, wrapping the blanket tighter around him. “Should we put him to bed?”

Castiel reached over and tried to pick the boy up. He responded by kicking his hands away and growling. “Perhaps not,” he said quietly.

“He’s a real bear when he’s tired.”

“He gets that from you.”

“Hey, I’m not like that!” he whispered harshly.

“Dean, I tried to wake you up once and you stabbed me.”

“You’re an angel, you barely felt it.”

Castiel chuckled. “I like Egon.”

“You would. Really smart, doesn’t understand most humans, monotone voice. All he needs is a trench coat.”

“What’s a twinkie?”

“Dude, you have got to be kidding me. You’ve never had a twinkie?”

“No. What is it made of?”

“It’s made of awesome, Cas, and we’re getting some tomorrow for you and Des.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

Dean sipped absently on a beer and soon his own eyelids started to droop. He couldn't really adjust his position on the couch because he’d wake up Destiel. He leaned back to get comfortable and found that to be stretched back he had to use Castiel’s shoulder for support.

“This okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel said quickly.

Dean felt himself start to drift off and was almost asleep when the angel spoke again. “Dean, do you believe Destiel is happy?”

“Hmm? Uh, yeah. Not now, I guess, if you try to wake him he’d come up swinging, but generally he seems like a happy kid.”

Castiel nodded and fell into silence again.

Dean frowned. “What’s on your mind, anyway? You worried about him?”

The angel sighed. “Always.”

Dean sat up, narrowing his eyes. “He’s developing okay, right? You said he’s on track mentally and physically?”

“I think so,” Castiel nodded. “I don’t have any examples to go on. I just worry that he...that  _ we _ …are just too unconventional. Most small children do not watch the Ghostbusters and critique their ghost hunting abilities. Then with what happened on the beach today... I want for him to be able to be normal if he wishes.”

“He’s got two dads and one of them is an angel. I think that ship sailed a long time ago.”

“Exactly,” Castiel sighed. “If he cannot be normal then it is my fault. He deserves a human father.”

“He’s got me, Cas,” Dean protested. “I’ve got the human side covered.”

The angel shook his head. “He also deserves a...I mean, to be clear I would not object to you dating in the near future, and if she happened to like Destiel that would be a blessing.”

He scoffed. “You think he needs a mom?”

“That is the traditional arrangement.”

Dean ran a hand over his face. “Don’t make me say this.”

“Say what?”

“Fine. I’m not really interested in dating right now. We got a good thing going here, let’s not mess it up.”

Castiel looked confused. “I don’t see how you being in a romantic relationship would affect our raising Destiel.”

“That’s not what I…” Dean refused to look at the angel, but he caught sight of his face in the dim light.

“Dean, are you blushing?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “I’m not. Can we just watch the stupid movie?”

Castiel squinted and Dean could practically hear the gears turning in his mind. “Are you suggesting that being in a romantic relationship with someone would ruin the current state of our bond?”

Dean fidgeted enough that Destiel grumbled. He waited until the boy was asleep again before he whispered. “Yes, okay? I don’t know what we’ve got going here but I think it’s worth a shot for Des.”

“Oh. You want to be in a relationship with me for Destiel’s sake.”

“Is that so terrible? Kids like knowing their parents care about each other. He’s going to start asking questions someday soon, I’d like to be able to answer them.” He took in the angels pained expression. “Look, it’s not just Des. I didn’t know about him when I slaughtered my way through purgatory to find your ass this past year. You’ve always mattered to me in some way or another. I think this might have happened, eventually, with the right circumstances. These...are the right circumstances. But you know I can't just decide this, you have a say. Are you...interested?”

Castiel smirked. “Of course I am. I assumed it was not an option due to your romantic history being entirely female.”

“Angels don't have a gender,” he said, mostly to remind himself. “It's just a vessel-- Oh God, Jimmy! We can't ever--”

“I firmly believe Jimmy is no longer in this vessel,” he said truthfully. “He passed on at some point, this body belongs to me.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dean nodded, suddenly awkward. “So we...we give this a try, then? For him?”

Castiel frowned. “Yes, but I don’t want you to think I’m only agreeing to this because of our son. If you had brought this possibility to my attention before he arrived… I would have also said yes.”

Dean smiled, turning away from him. “That’s good to know. This is new territory for me, and I’m not really sure how to do this so…” he carefully took hold of Castiel’s hand beneath the blanket, “bear with me, alright?”

“Whatever you need, Dean. As always.”

“Now let’s shut up and watch Bill Murray kick Zuul’s ass.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up there's some swearing in here because Gabriel is uncontrollable. Also, Sabriel is a little shit in the beginning of this chapter, just bear with him he'll get through it.

I didn't know that anger burned. It starts off low in your chest and lodges in your throat, then fireworks explode all through your veins. I slammed my door behind me and threw my bookshelf across the room with a flick of my wrist.  I could do more, I knew. I could snap Mamuel's neck, even from here.

I thought I had felt anger before. That day Mamuel nearly struck Destiel I'd been angry, but also so afraid. Some combination of fear and rage unlocked powers I hadn't known I'd possessed that day, but this was different. I didn't want to help anyone. Again and again I saw visions of Mamuel standing over me with that smug grin, not relenting until called off, even when I was broken and crying and putting up no resistance. He did not deserve to live.

I pondered what exactly the Winchester's would do if I killed him now. I should have that right, and I had the ability. Would they kick me out? Certainly they'd be upset, I might even find myself tied in the same chair that held Mamuel, but I didn't believe they would kill me. With what I'd read so far in Carver Edlund’s books it seemed that they'd let you get away with anything if you were blood. Certainly they wouldn't take it out on Destiel, he had Dean and Castiel jumping to meet his needs. If there were no consequences, then why hadn't I done it yet?

Because Sam had asked me not to.

The wall broke under my fist. These people did not control me, no one did. I was  _ free _ . Free to kill Mamuel, free to leave this bunker and never return if I wished. The doors were locked only from the inside, and I could fly anywhere I liked. Destiel would be safe here, and I could run the way I’d intended to when I first escaped. I knew enough now to ward myself against the angels; they’d never find me.

I didn’t run, though. Where would I even go? I laid back on my bed and tried to force my breathing to slow down. I was there for about an hour when the first knock came to my door.

“Sabriel? It’s Sam. Can you open the door?”

I let him knock for a few minutes, but I did not want to see him. He slowly started to sound more annoyed

“Sabe, I’ll leave you alone, but I’m worried you flew out and could be in danger. Can you at least let me know you’re in there?”

I threw the book next to me at the door and it thudded against it loudly. I heard him sigh, and then footsteps as he left. It was another few hours before I heard another knock, this one much smaller. 

“Sabe, it’s just me,” Destiel’s small voice came from under the door.

I jumped toward the door, immediately planning on letting him in. My hand froze on the doorknob. Then I was angry again. Why did I always jump when this kid called for me? He had parents, good ones at that, and I was only his cousin. I was ready to yell through the door to tell him to go find Dean or Cas, but the harsh words died on my tongue.

“Sabe? We’re gonna’ watch a movie, you wanna’ watch it with us?”

I took a deep breath and leveled my voice. “No. I’m just going to go to sleep, Des. Have fun.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said. He sounded disappointed, and I wondered if I had ever said no to one of his requests before. He always wanted me to look at something or pick him up or answer his questions. I heard him walk quietly down the hall. Great, now I got to feel guilty as well.

At some point Dean or someone else tried to ask me about the movie again, but I just ignored it. I fought sleep for as long as I could. I knew he’d be waiting for me.

_ I was suddenly at a long, empty bar. The stool I sat in was tall enough to make even my feet dangle inches from the floor. I was alone except for a tall blonde woman with a sweet smile who stood behind the bar. _

_ “Can I get you something, Honey?” _

_ I ignored her and glanced at an empty glass in my hand. “I don’t know this place.” _

_ “It’s not your memory, it’s mine,” Gabriel said, appearing on the stool beside me. He tapped to get the woman’s attention. “I’ll take an Old Fashioned, and Junior here will have a beer.” _

_ I scrunched up my nose at him. _

_ “I’ve decided it’s your twenty-first birthday. Mazeltov. You need a drink after today.” _

_ “How much of it did you see?” _

_ “I missed some of the beach, but I think I caught most of the excitement. Including your tantrum.” _

_ “What?” _

_ Gabriel lowered his voice dramatically and his hair went dark. “OMG Dad, get out of my room! No one understands me! Meh!” he threw my empty glass across the room and smirked at me. “Don’t sweat it too hard, you crammed eight years of adolescence into four months. If I was you I’d be pissy twenty-four seven.” _

_ I glared at him. “If you have been watching, you know what Mamuel is like. He needs to be dealt with.” _

_ The woman placed a glass in front of Gabriel and he sipped at it. “Hear this, and mark the date because you probably won’t hear it again. I think the moose is right.” _

_ I scoffed. “How could you think that? Mamuel would kill us all in a heartbeat.” _

_ “But, he didn’t. There could be good in the other hybrids. Sam sees him as if--” _

_ “My Father is wrong!” I barked, slamming my hand against the bar. “Heaven is wrong! They are animals! They know nothing but war, they’re not like us. Trying to reason with them just wastes time and keeps us all in danger. He does not understand what their minds are like. If he would just listen to me he would agree.” _

_ The smile was gone from Gabriel’s face. “You sound more like Lucifer everyday.” _

_ That gave me pause. I stared at him and finally he cleared his throat and continued. _

_ “You’re angry. Not because of what they could do to you, but because of what they already have. The world is not as black and white as you see it right now. How do you feel about the angels?” _

_ “I hate them.” _

_ “What about Castiel?” _

_ I snorted. “He does not count.” _

_ “Why not? He’s very much an angel. For that matter, so am I. You don’t hate angels, Son. You hate the angels that held you captive. You think all hybrids except you are unreachable? What about Destiel? Lucifer said the same thing about humans. He didn’t think there was a single good one of them, but he was wrong. Fight actions, not species.” _

_ I tried the beer but pushed it away, not liking the bitter taste. “Fine. Let’s say there can be good hybrids. That doesn’t make Mamuel better. He’s a monster.” _

_ “Where do you think you’d be if the Winchesters hadn’t found you?” _

_ I considered it. “Back in heaven. I did not know how to ward against them, they would have caught us.” _

_ “So let’s say you never met Sam, and you never met me. You may not remember seeing me when you were younger, but I was there. I told you that we had to run, that you had to get away, and something stuck. If you never had either of us and Naomi had been in your ear your whole life, filling your head with lies, what would be the difference between you and that kid in the dungeon?” _

_ “He had the same options I did.” _

_ “Michael can’t go to him. He’s in the pit with Lucifer. His human father is long dead--” _

_ “You know his human father?” _

_ “I know of him. He made it into heaven, bit of a celebrity up there, that must be how they got his DNA. I could see it on him right away. Mamuel was made from Michael the archangel and Samuel Colt. The best fighter and the most loyal soldier, all wrapped up into one mixed-up kid. It’s smart, I would have picked the same combination.” _

_ “He is loyal,” I nodded. “He will never turn against Naomi.” _

_ “Don’t you think this is what she wants?” he growled, slamming his glass down hard. “She wants you two to hate each other. She needs it. You two are going to find yourselves in Stull Cemetery, and one of you is going to have to kill the other. He’s going to believe he is following heaven’s orders and you’re going to believe you’re the smart one fighting injustice. Then the moment one of you spills the others blood, boom, armageddon.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “God, it’s all happening again.” _

_ I thought back to the books I’d been reading. “You just want the fighting to stop.” _

_ “Doesn’t everyone?” he asked. _

_ I thought for a moment. “Then what can I do? You speak as though the future is decided.” _

_ “Change it,” he said simply. “Michael and Lucifer were cowards, willing to follow the story that was written for them. The Winchesters may not be my favorite beings in the universe, but they didn’t just accept the end like everyone else. They stopped something that shouldn’t have been possible to stop, and Sam was a big part of that. If he wants you to spare someone you don’t think is worth sparing, then fucking listen to him. Now get up. If this is your twenty-first birthday party I’m going to teach you how to hustle pool.” _

_ I smirked. We spent some time together, and eventually the beer did not taste so bitter, or I just stopped caring about the taste.  _

I awoke to find my bedroom in disarray. Although I was instantly sober it took a moment for me to remember I was the one who had left it in that state, and I felt my face flush with shame. It was still dark out, and I was careful not to wake anyone. I moved my furniture back into place as quietly as I could. I couldn’t do anything about the walls, but I hoped I could fix them later. I stepped out of my room quietly and found there was a plate of food next to my door. I smiled at the hastily put together sandwich with honey on it, making note that I would get rid of it before Destiel woke up so he would think I had eaten it.

I tiptoed quietly through the bunker, half expecting one of them to be on guard in front of the dungeon to keep me from Mamuel. There was no one at the door, and it was unlocked. I figured they knew locks would not stop me if I truly wanted to get in. They had left the light on, and Mamuel saw me right away. He sat up straighter in his chair as I closed the door behind me.

“If you were not a coward,” he said coldly, “you would untie me so this would be a fair fight.”

I pulled up a chair and sat across from him, resting my elbows on the table they’d set in front of him. “What would you know about fair fighting?”

His brow furrowed, eyes flitting to the knives on the wall. “Our battles made you stronger. You had to fear for your life to truly fight for it. You’re welcome.”

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“I thought as much. Your hunters seem to want me alive. If they believe they can order me to follow them as easily as they’ve convinced you, they are wrong.”

“I do not take orders,” I insisted. “I make my own decisions. I have decided I’m not here to kill you. I came to give you information.”

Mamuel scoffed.

“Do you understand what it means to have a parent, Mamuel?”

He frowned at me. “Our donors? They are of no importance, Naomi is our general.”

“Sam Winchester was my donor,” I said carefully. “This is my family, not my unit.”

“So? Naomi told me as much,” he shrugged as best as the chains would allow. 

“I have another father,” I went on. “The archangel Gabriel. You have two as well. I thought you should know. Your full name is Mamuel Colt. Your human father is dead. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said immediately.

I nodded and stood up, turning on my heel.

“Where are you going?” he snapped.

“I’m done with you.”

“Fight me, coward!” he shouted.

I shut the door behind me.

\------------------------------------------------------

Sam woke up early that morning and walked straight for Sabriel’s room. He knocked gently and leaned his ear on the door, knowing how early his son usually rose.

“Sabe?” he called. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer.

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept much the night before. An angry teenager was bad enough, but one with angel powers was a nightmare. All night he wondered if he would still be there in the morning. He internally prepared himself for another day of the silent treatment as he wandered into the kitchen to make coffee. He was too late; the smell of roasted coffee beans floated out of the kitchen along with the voices.

“Like this Sabe?”

“I think so, that’s how they did it on the cooking show Uncle Cas was watching.”

Sam eased around the doorway. Destiel stood on a chair near the stove holding a pan filled with thick batter in his hands. Sabriel stood next to him mixing more in a large bowl, watching the younger boy in apprehension.

Destiel flicked his wrists and the batter spilled over the pan and landed on the floor. “Uh oh.”

“This looked easier on television.”

Destiel caught sight of the hunter and grinned. “Hi, Uncle Sam! We’re making flapjacks.”

“We’re trying to,” Sabriel said, eyes on the floor.

Sam smiled. “Uh, I’m not sure how to do that, but I can help with pancakes.”

Destiel nodded and put the pan back on the stove as he ran to get the broom. Sam and his son stood there awkwardly. Finally, Sam cleared his throat. “Look, I shouldn’t have--”

“I spoke with Gabriel last night,” Sabriel said interrupting him.

Sam nodded slowly, not sure what he meant.

“He made a lot of sense,” he continued. “I’m sorry.”

“Uh,” Sam fidgeted uncomfortably. A lifetime of dealing with Dean had not prepared him for this. “Its… We’re good.”

Sabriel poured the batter in his bowl into the pan carefully. “So, smaller circles?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, reaching out to help.

Destiel came in with the broom and Dean and Castiel in tow, talking quickly about breakfast and how Sabriel said he could put honey on it instead of syrup. Sam nodded when he saw his brother, searching for a spatula in the drawers. Dean made himself a cup of coffee and looked on as they poured the pancakes. 

“How was last night?” Sam asked him.

Dean choked on his coffee and his eyes darted to Castiel at the table. “What are you talking about? Nothing happened last night. Destiel went right to sleep and Cas tucked him in and then I went back to my room and went to bed alone. The end. What’s with the third degree?”

Sam blinked. “The movie, Dean. How was it?”

“Oh. Uh, this guy conked out pretty quick. He heard the song though, so expect him to be singing that for a while.”

“I ain’t afraid of no ghost,” Destiel muttered rhythmically under his breath.

Dean’s phone rang and he set his coffee down. “Kevin,” he said with a smile, “how’s it going?”

“Tell him to get home, he hasn’t even met the boys yet,” Sam called over to him.

Dean’s face slowly slipped into a frown. He pursed his lips and set the phone on the counter. He pressed the speaker button.

A female voice repeated the same phrase. “We want Mamuel. We have the prophet. Meet in Akron, Ohio. We want Mamuel. We have the prophet. Meet in Akron, Ohio.”


	9. Chapter 9

I did  _ not  _ like riding in the Impala. Flying I was used to, and at first I thought that was how they would allow me to take us to Akron. Dean was against that idea; he said he didn’t even like being transported by Castiel, let alone someone who’d had angel powers for less than a year and a bad history of exact landings. Castiel had decided he should be the one to stay in the bunker with Destiel, so that left us without what Dean called a ‘frequent flier’, though I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. The only other option was to drive if I wanted to go with them to rescue the Prophet.

Sam and Dean seemed to be almost excited as we eased the old automobile out of the garage. They’d been pretty stationary since they’d found us a few months before, and had felt more confined than they were used to. It took only minutes for me to be sick. Dean had enough time to glance at me in the rearview mirror and say, “Hey Kid, you look a little green.” Then I was leaning out of the car window as Dean pulled over.

I’d never been sick a day in my life so far, I was not sure if I could even catch viruses, so my first reaction was panic. “Father, I’m dying.” I groaned.

He smiled, holding my hair back as I was sick on the shoulder of the road. “You’re not dying, Sabriel. You’re just car sick. Maybe you should ride in the front?”

“No!” Dean and I both yelled. Sam shot his brother an annoyed look.

“If he’s going to keep puking lets keep it off my dashboard,” Dean said defensively.

“I don’t want to be closer to the front of the car,” I agreed. “The road moves so fast.”

“Lay in the backseat then,” Sam insisted as he eased me back into the car, “and try to keep your eyes closed.”

“How long will we be in here?” I asked, squeezing my eyes closed.

“It’s a seventeen hour drive,” Sam said carefully.

I groaned. There was a sharp knock of anger from behind me and my frown melted into a smirk and a chuckle. However uncomfortable this was going to be for me, it was going to be worse for Mamuel in the trunk. I’d asked to keep him away from me, and Sam had agreed that was best. Heaven’s great warrior, half of the battle duo that was supposed to start the apocalypse, and we had him tied up in the back of a human’s car with thick ribbons covered in sigils. I could vaguely hear him complaining against the tape over his mouth, and I found it incredibly funny.  _ ‘Perhaps there’s some Gabriel in me after all’ _ , I thought as I fought against my nausea.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Castiel was not as good at this part. There were many aspects of caring for his son that he excelled in, he thought, such as keeping him safe and teaching him about the world around them as quickly as he could. He had to admit, though, Dean was the one in charge of fun time. The other man always seemed to have a new idea for something Destiel might enjoy, like last week when he’d come home with a basket of fireworks and insisted they all shoot them off above the bunker. Castiel thought it looked incredibly dangerous and did not understand why it was important for his son to watch explosions, but the look on the boy’s face as the bright lights burst above them had proved him wrong.

Destiel sat sadly on the couch with his hands in his lap, eyes still watery. He was worried enough when he realized that the phone call they’d received from the kidnappers meant that Dean would have to leave them for a while, but he’d been devastated when he found out Sabriel would have to go too. He’d clung to the young man’s legs as Sam made up an extra fake FBI badge and found an old suit for Sabriel just in case.

“We’re not supposed to be apart, Sabe,” he cried. “You could get hurt out there alone!”

“I won’t be alone,” he’d promised, “Father and Uncle Dean will be there to keep me out of trouble.”

“I have to go, too,” Destiel insisted. “We’ll all go and save Uncle Kevin--”

“No,” Dean had said immediately. “I hate to be away from you and Cas, Des, but if you’re there you’d be in danger, and I’d be distracted making sure you were safe.”

It had still taken an hour to pry the boy away from his family, and as soon as they were gone he’d plopped himself down on the couch and crossed his arms tightly around him. Castiel sat awkwardly near him, face drawn into a pained grimace as he tried to figure out what to say to his son.

“Do you…” he finally sputtered out, “Would you like to watch Scooby Doo?”

Destiel shook his head.

“Um,” the angel fidgeted. “Maybe I could pretend to be a monster, and you could figure out how to kill me?”

“Sabe isn’t supposed to be away from me,” Destiel huffed. “He promised.”

“When?” Castiel asked.

The boy thought. “I can’t remember, but it’s important. I should go with him.”

“He’s older than you, Des,” Castiel said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The boy frowned. “How old am I, Daddy?”

“You don’t remember?”

The boy shook his head.

“Physically you are about seven, but chronologically you’re two and a half months old.”

“Oh,” the boy shrugged, barely interested. “I can still help. I helped Papa on the beach.”

“You’ll get stronger. It won’t be long until you’re big enough to...hunt,” Castiel admitted worriedly. “Just like Papa and Sam. If that is what you wish. There are many other, safer options for you to choose.”

The boy sniffled, curling up on the couch with his little eyebrows drawn in angrily. Castiel felt himself smile despite the situation at just how much like Dean the boy looked when he was upset.

“How about we dig into those pancakes you made?” Castiel offered, still trying to get the boy’s mind off the subject.

“Daddy, what was I like when I was born?”

Castiel squinted. “What?”

“I can’t remember when Sabe promised he wouldn’t leave me. It must have been just after I was born.”

“Destiel, you were not with me when you were born,” he said slowly.

“I wasn't?” the boy frowned. “Where was I?”

The angel pulled the boy onto his lap and studied him carefully. “Des, how far back can you remember?”

The boy scrunched up his nose. “I don’t know.”

“Do you remember fleeing heaven?”

“Heaven?” the boy asked. “I’ve never been to heaven, Daddy.”

“Where have you been, then?”

“Here,” he said in confusion. “Sometimes we go outside, but it’s safe here. You and Papa had me, and Uncle Sam had Sabriel, and we all live together here where it’s safe.”

“Right,” Castiel said slowly. “I understand you are upset. Perhaps we could play a game if you wish?”

“Operation?” the boy asked with a half smile.

“Of course,” Castiel nodded.

Destiel went running to his room to dig around for his game as Castiel pulled out his phone. This probably wasn’t something that should be discussed in a text, and he knew Dean was busy driving. He sighed and slipped it back into his coat. Perhaps this wasn’t as important as he thought. Who cared if Destiel did not remember heaven? That was better than him having to relive it in his head, wasn’t it? It was possible he was simply looking for a reason to call Dean. He made a promise to himself to wait until nightfall at the very least.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Sabriel had finally fallen asleep in the backseat after nightfall. They’d considered stopping for the night, but the brothers were used to not sleeping much on the job and wanted to get to Kevin as quickly as possible. Sam kept an eye on the young man in the backseat, and when he was sure he was unconscious he tapped Dean’s arm and whispered to him.

“Lee Chambers is dead.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Garth called me this morning before I got up. They didn’t hear from him for a few weeks. He sent a few hunters to look for him, and they found him dead in his house. Chrissy is nowhere to be found, they think she went underground. Eyes burned, neck snapped, furniture scattered everywhere.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Sam pointed back to Sabriel. “I didn’t want him to know. Do you see his face everytime we mention an angel attack? He thinks it’s on him.”

“Damn,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “He was one of the good ones. Are we thinking one of the hybrids? Is this the start of the war?”

Sam shrugged. “I was thinking about the names Sabe gave us. He said one was named Leeriel, and Cas said they may have used Uriel to make him.”

Dean nodded. “So Lee was a hybrid baby daddy and he ended up dead. Great.”

Sam was about to answer when Dean’s phone rang. The hunter glanced at his screen before he smiled and answered.

“Hey, Cas, what’s--”

“ _ Hi Papa _ !” Destiel’s voice echoed loudly out of the speaker and Dean had to hold the phone away from his ear. “ _ I’m using a phone! _ ”

“Cool, Buddy,” Dean laughed quietly. 

“ _ Daddy said I could call and say goodnight to you _ ,” he yelled.

“Goodnight, Des, love you. You better get to bed it’s late.”

“ _ Okay Papa, can I say goodnight to Sabe _ ?”

“Sabe’s asleep, Buddy.”

“ _ Aw _ ,” the boy said sadly. “ _ Okay, just tell him I said hi. Love you, Papa, here’s Daddy _ .” There was a rustle and they heard the angel talking to the boy quietly as he put him to bed. A moment later his voice came through.

_ “Hello, Dean. I don’t believe Destiel understands how phones work _ .”

Dean laughed. “Neither did you a year ago. How’s he doing?”

_ “He is alright, but he told me something interesting earlier. Destiel says he has no memory of heaven. He believes he was born with us.” _

“Really? I mean, that’s a good thing, right? The less he remembers about being a prisoner the better.”

__ _ “I thought the same thing. I just hope he does not have memory problems.” _

“I doubt it. Sabriel said he doesn’t remember Gabriel coming to him when he was new, maybe the hybrids have unstable memories for a few weeks. He seems fine now.”

_ “We will have to watch him, perhaps ask him questions to test his ability to recollect events. How far are you from Akron?” _

“About five hours. We don’t know where to go after that, hopefully we get another call from Kevin’s phone. They won’t pick up, we tried.”

_ “Hopefully this does not take too long. Destiel...we need you here, Dean.” _

Dean felt red rush to his cheeks. “I know.”

_ “This morning when Sam asked about our night...are you ashamed of what is happening between us?” _

Dean’s eyes darted to his brother in the seat beside him. “No, I’m not. I can’t really talk about this now, Cas.”

__ _ “I understand Sam can hear you. Just give simple answers. Last night after the movie...do you regret it?” _

Dean’s hand tightened on the steering wheel they tightened onto Castiel’s collar the night before. With Destiel asleep in his own bed the two men finally had a moment to talk about their new arrangement. He’d talked about purgatory and the wars they’d fought together, finally encouraged to be honest about how it had felt to lose Castiel again and again and never know if he was really gone this time. He just wanted to put it out there, he’d never expected the other man to have his own confessions.

_ I fell for you, Dean. I did not rebel for freedom, or for humanity, I’d experienced both before. I didn’t fight back until I met you. _

He’d meant to take this slower, thought he’d feel more awkward trying to imagine Castiel as more than a friend, but that seemed very silly in the dead of night when no one could hear or see them. Then suddenly they were kissing, hands wrapping tightly around clothing that was just in the way, and that growing need that he’d felt before, but never so intensely and desperately and  _ urgent _ . If he closed his eyes he could still feel the stubble on the man’s face against his own and breathe in that smell of pine and leather that was just so uniquely _ Cas _ …

_ “Dean?” _

__ “No, I don’t. Really I don’t. If Kevin didn’t need us ASAP I’d be…” his eyes darted to Sam, “there to tuck in Des, right now.”

He could hear a soft sigh of relief from the other side of the phone.  _ “I’m glad. I enjoyed our...time together.” _

Dean smirked. “Me too.”

__ _ “Get back soon. Goodbye. We love you, Dean” _

“Love you too, Cas,” Dean said, hanging up the phone. The words fell effortlessly from his mouth, and by the time he heard them it was too late. He sat up very straight in his seat and tried to look casual, but he knew Sam was looking at him.

“Um, Dean?”

“Yeah?” he asked, setting his jaw.

“Did you just, uh...Did you just tell Cas you loved him?”

Dean snorted and shrugged nervously. “What, you don’t love Cas? After everything he’s done for us? He’s practically our...brother,” he grimaced at the word.

“Sure, but since when do you say stuff like that? I’ve literally only ever heard you use that word to describe Destiel, burgers, and Casa Erotica Four. You’ve never even said that to me.”

“Well, I’m trying to do better,” he said defensively. “You know, for Des, so he knows it’s okay. Watch,” he turned to him uncomfortably, “you’re my brother and I love you, Sammy.” He looked into the rearview mirror. “I love you too, nephew.”

Sabriel just shifted in his sleep.

Sam snorted suspiciously. “Okay, man, whatever.”

They were both silent for a heavy minute.

Dean slammed his hand on the wheel. “I kissed Cas, okay!”

“I knew it!” Sam shouted, then flinched when he saw Sabriel stir a bit. “I knew it,” he whispered harshly to his brother. “All that weird staring and then you spend a freaking year in purgatory to find him. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean scoffed. “We just got together last night.”

“Bull,” Sam scoffed with a grin.

“No, really. Why do you think we were so weird this morning?”

“You’re always weird around Cas!” Sam insisted. 

“I think I’d know if I’d been dating an dude!” Dean insisted. “This is new! I was going to tell you, I just hadn’t figured out how to say it.”

Sam laughed. “You have to know that I’m cool with this, right? I want you guys to be happy, I don’t care if it’s with each other. Destiel will be thrilled.”

“Don’t tell him,” Dean said quickly. “Not yet. Let’s make sure this works, then we’ll sit him down and explain it.”

Sam couldn’t stop smiling. “Sure.”

Dean shoved him. “Shut up.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Destiel was asleep when he heard a loud noise somewhere in the bunker. He woke up with a jolt and glanced at the clock, realizing it was still very late. “Daddy?” he called.

There was no answer.

The boy closed his eyes and prayed silently to his father, knowing how quickly that always brought the angel to him. Still, he was alone.

He had just decided to go find Castiel himself when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Those were not Daddy’s footsteps, they were too light and quiet. He dived under the bed as his door creaked open.

“Destiel?” a sweet female voice floated to him. “It’s me, Destiel, don’t you remember me?”

The boy said nothing, but the bed above him lifted into the air, leaving him exposed.

“Don’t you remember your sweet Aunt Anraziel?” she asked with a sickly sweet grin.

“No,” he said, skittering back. “You’re an angel. Uh...angel blades kill you, and sigils get rid of you. Daddy!” he shrieked. “I need help!”

“Oh, Daddy’s taking a little nap,” Anraziel said casually. “He wanted me to take you with me so he can rest.”

“Daddy doesn’t sleep,” Destiel said with a scowl, “and he’d never let you in. Daddy! Sabriel!”

“I don’t have time for this,” she spat, grabbing at him. She slapped a hand over his mouth before he could scream at her and Destiel felt his room melting around him as he was taken far away.

Many miles away Sabriel awoke with a start, adrenaline coursing through him and his heart pounding.

“You alright, Sabe?” Sam asked from the front seat.

“I...I think so,” Sabriel said shakily. “Is Des alright? Can we call them?”

“I just talked to him on the phone, he calmed down,” Dean assured him.

“I only had a nightmare, then,” Sabriel nodded to himself, almost believing it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If Sabriel seems out of character in the beginning please remember that Mamuel brings out the Gabriel in him. He hates Naomi, so he knows how to act with her, and he loves Destiel, so he knows how to act with him, but Mamuel falls somewhere in the middle and it throws him off. Question for you guys at the bottom...

When I awoke again I was dismayed to find Mamuel sitting next to me. The hybrid looked a little frumpled from being cooped up in the trunk, and wore a permanent scowl, but was otherwise unharmed. When he saw me awake he grumbled at me through the tape on his mouth.

“Father?” I asked in a groggy voice.

“We're about to hit the city limits,” Sam explained. “If they're watching us we want them to know we brought him so we get directions to Kevin.”

I nodded, stretching as much as I could. My long legs brushed against Mamuel and he let out a muffled sound of annoyance.

“That’s not your side,” I spat at him, “it's mine. The whole car is my side. Be good or we'll strap you to the roof.”

“Mmnnff!”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Mmnnff!”

“You'll have to speak up Mamuel, you've got a little something right here,” I grinned, tapping my mouth with my thumb.

“Sabriel, don't antagonize him,” Sam warned lightheartedly.

“In fact, rip off the tape,” Dean said. “We got some questions for Golden Boy.”

I grabbed the side of the tape and ripped hard enough to pull a few hairs from his baby face. He gasped and stretched hips mouth open, stretching his jaw. “How dare you! I am your brother and your superior and you just throw me into the back of a moving vehicle? When we return Naomi will hear about--”

“Can I put it back on?” I sighed. “Besides, the trunk is barely smaller than the 'quarters’ they shoved us into every night, you should feel right at home in there.”

“I was moved into a private suite months ago,” Mamuel said proudly. “Rewards are for soldiers who follow orders.”

“A large cell is still a cell,” I insisted acidly. “Naomi offered me that stupid suite the day I left, I chose to be free instead.”

“You think this is freedom?” He scoffed. “You want me dead but you do nothing to achieve it because you have been ordered not to. You're letting these humans, these  _ hunters _ , control your most valuable gifts for their own personal agendas. You're a disgrace.”

“Oh that's rich, coming from heaven's little bitch--”

“That's enough,” Dean interrupted. “Why would the angels take Kevin?” Dean asked, staring Mamuel in the eyes in the mirror. “He's got nothing to do with this.”

“To save me,” Mamuel said proudly. “They'd tear apart your ape filled world to bring me home. Unlike the Prodigal Son here, they know I'm loyal and will always welcome me back.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, not like my case where they just let me go scott free and handed me a gift basket on the way out the door. We're nothing but lost property they want returned.”

“That is not true! You could never appreciate Naomi’s help and love for us. She's practically our mother.”

“I don't have a mother, I have two father's, and if one of them was here right now he'd turn you into a tree ornament for the irony.”

“Sabriel,” Sam warned again.

“Oh, I'm not going to do anything to him,” I grumbled. “But Gabriel would, you can't deny that.”

“The archangels were noble fighters,” Mamuel said. “You should speak of them reverently.”

“You’ve obviously never met one.”

There was a buzz from Dean’s phone and he pulled it out immediately. “West 37th street, Park Place Motel, Room 217,” he read. “That’s the meet up point.”

“A motel?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “That’s what it says.”

We circled the block around the motel twice, looking for surveillance, but eventually Dean was satisfied we weren’t about to be ambushed. We untied Mamuel mostly, leaving only his hands bound and sigils on his arms to stop him from flying away. Dean made him walk in front of us as we approached the room in case there were weapons pointed at us. We counted for a silent moment, and then Sam kicked the door in and we went in, guns drawn.

I don’t know exactly what I was expecting. Maybe an army of angels ready to kill us all? Maybe Naomi with that malicious grin on her face? I was not expecting to see a man reclining on the bed with a beer watching some show with slowly running bodyguards in swimsuits.

“Kevin?” Dean asked, gun still raised as he searched the room. “Where are they?”

Kevin blinked at us, clear confusion on his face. “Who?”

“The angels!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is it safe to leave now?”

We lowered our guns slowly. “What are you talking about Kevin?” Sam asked.

“Are you serious? I’ve been wait here for like two days!”

“Who told you to wait?”

Kevin stretched and set his beer on the nightstand. “I was in Branson, still super drunk and enjoying myself, by the way, when these guys in suits show up and tell me you sent them for me. I did the whole nine yards, holy water, silver, they passed every test. They even used Poughkeepsie as a code word, told me needed to leave immediately. I was going to call but… like I said I was pretty smashed and I couldn’t find my phone. They told me people were after me and they needed to put me in a safe room. They drove me here and said you wanted me to wait for you to get here. I didn’t see why we couldn’t just head for the bunker, but I was tired and I passed out on the bed. When I woke up with a hangover they were gone and the door was sealed from the outside.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sam said, eyeing Mamuel suspiciously. He pushed him into a chair and tied him to it. “They want Mamuel back, why wouldn’t they stay and make the trade?”

Dean hadn’t spoken. The color had gone out of his face, and he stalked forward to grab Kevin by the shirt. “Did you tell them about the bunker?”

“Uh…” Kevin thought. “Maybe? I remember saying we should just go there and you guys would come home eventually.”

Dean let go of him and grabbed my arm. “Sabriel, fly us home right now.”

I was confused. Dean hated flying, and he was unlikely to choose me as a pilot. “Dean, we don’t seem to be in immediate danger anymore. Shouldn’t we take the car?”

“Do you see any angels here? No. Because they don’t want to trade hostages. They wanted us here. Cas and Destiel are alone, and they know where to find them.”

“Oh,” my eyes went wide. “What about Mamuel, he--”

“Leave him!” Dean roared. “If they want him so bad they’ll find him, they know we came to this room. He put one hand on Sam’s shoulder and one on Kevin’s. “Now, Sabriel!”

I grabbed ahold of Dean and tried to concentrate. Fear was not hard to conjure up this time. There was emptiness beneath my feet, and then there we were, standing outside of the bunker. The door stood open, and screaming came from inside.

Sam and Dean’s guns were drawn in an instant. I followed them inside, fumbling with my own weapon, and I heard someone take a shot. My heart skipped off its rhythm as we looked down into the main room.

Two young teens stood looking up at us with sick grins on their faces. Castiel sat strapped to a chair between them, blood dripping down from his face. He was covered in so many bruises that if was not for the trench coat I was not sure I would have recognized him. He was screaming weakly, without even the energy to raise his head to see us. The darker boy looked down casually at the bullet Dean had shot into his shoulder and flicked it away from him without even a wince.

“Rumandriel!” I cried. “Leeriel! Stop this!”

They actually laughed at me. “Look,” Leeriel sneered, “it’s true. The idiot can speak.”

“That doesn't mean it can think,” Rumandriel assured him.

Sam and Dean were racing down the stairs, but before they reached them the two vanished, leaving only Castiel behind. The angel sat slumped over, and I could just barely hear him muttering something under his breath. Dean was at his side in an instant, gently lifting his head, and his words came clearer.

“So sorry...So sorry Dean...I’m so…There were so many of them...”

“Hey,” Dean said, cradling his head as Sam ripped the bindings off his wrists. “This isn’t your fault.” He threw his gun across the room hard. “If I wasn’t so stupid I would have known--”

“They took him,” Castiel gasped, wincing at the feeling of his broken ribs. “I felt his fear. He prayed to me, Dean and I couldn’t…” he choked, another sob ripping through him. My hands started shaking. Not Destiel. He couldn’t be gone. 

“Sabe!” Dean called, but I was already almost to them. I pressed my hand against Castiel’s cheek and I could hear his bones snapping back into place as I healed him.

“He is injured...deeply,” I told them. “His grace has been weakened. I can’t heal that, it will take time.”

“They didn’t want me to heal myself,” Castiel said. His wheeze was gone, but as they freed him from the chair he slumped over weakly and Dean caught him. “Those two hybrids...they’re monsters. They’ve been torturing me for hours, just because they could. They wanted no information, they had no agenda, they just wanted to see what it looked like to take an angel apart piece by piece…” he shivered.

I was already running from the room, calling Destiel’s name. I couldn’t accept that he was gone. Any moment I expected to see him run from his room and meet me, but there was no sound of small feet in sneakers. I heard Dean and Sam racing from room to room, calling his name, but I knew if he had heard me he would have come immediately.  _ We’re not supposed to be apart, Sabe.  _ His words echoed back at me and I could swear he was clinging to my leg again, begging me not to go. How could I be so stupid? I’d  _ promised him _ , promised that we would not separate, that they’d never take him back to the white room. He could be there now, or worse.

I stumbled back into the main room, feeling emptier than I ever had. Would they take my punishment out on him? Was he even still alive? “He’s gone,” I shouted at no one. The table in the middle of the room flipped over, and I was vaguely aware that I had done with my grace. I fell to my knees and I felt Sam’s hand on my shoulder. I think I shoved him away, but I can’t remember.

Kevin had helped Castiel into an armchair. Dean finally returned from his search for his son and sat down next to Castiel’s legs. His eyes were red and he slumped back against the angel’s legs like a broken man.

“He could be dead,” Castiel gasped. The wounds had closed but his blood was still stark on his pale face. “I can’t hear him. He could be dead.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s knee. “You’re connected to him, Cas. You knew the minute he was born. You felt it. Does he feel dead?”

Castiel shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I can’t feel him now. I can’t hear him anywhere. He was afraid and he was praying, and then he was gone.”

“I’m going,” I said suddenly sure of myself. I stood tall and squared back my shoulders. “I’m going to heaven to get him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Dean said immediately. He took Castiel’s angel blade from his pocket and held it out in front of him. “We’ll kill the whole lot of them if we have to.”

“Wait!” Sam called. “They took Destiel for a reason, right? You said Mamuel told you they didn’t want him back, but they took only him. It has to be a trap.”

“So what if it is?” Dean snapped. “They have my son, Sam!”

“And if you two go in guns blazing now, they’ll have all three of you and we’ll have to figure out how to get you all back!” Sam shouted. “I want Des back too, but if they’re using him as bait they are not going to hurt him. They want you, Sabe, and if you go now they’ll be ready to take you. I don’t want to lose you too.” I opened my mouth to protest, but Sam took hold of my arms tightly. “Please,” he begged, “trust me on this one.”

“I did trust you!” I snapped, my vision suddenly blurry. “You said you’d keep them away from us. Destiel is my responsibility! There is nothing, past or present, that I would put in front of him, including you.” I wanted to sound angry, but my words came out weak and wet. Sam hugged me, one hand on the back of my head, and I was not sure if it was affection or an attempt to keep me from running off.

Dean was angry, I could feel it radiating off of him from a distance, but I heard him throw the angel blade to the floor. “Then what am I supposed to do, Sam? Des is out there, and he thinks we abandoned him!”

I was tired of waiting. I couldn’t take this pointless arguing when Destiel needed me. I closed my eyes, not caring if I took Sam with me to heaven. I pulled forth my fear and my hate and focused it on getting back to heaven. I opened my eyes, there was a flash of blue -- but I was still in the bunker. My face scrunched up in confusion and I stumbled back.

“What?” Sam asked, clearly worried.

“I just...I just tried to fly back. It didn’t work.”

“What did you see when you tried?” Castiel called roughly.

“Just blue,” I said.

The angel sighed. “I was afraid of that. That means they have closed off heaven to you. As long as they have your grace, it’s possible. I assume if I was strong enough to try I’d find it impossible too. This is not a trap, Sam,” he said shaking his head sadly. “It’s a game, and we’ve fallen right into it.”

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Mamuel was pleased to see the others disappear from the motel room. His hands were tied to the chair tightly, and the sigils made it impossible for him to use his powers to escape, but heaven knew they were bringing him here and there was probably surveillance on the room at this very moment. It was only a matter of waiting until they came for him.  He leaned back and watched the television they’d left on as he waited.

He waited.

The sun had only just risen when he’d arrived at the motel, and as it started to set again he found himself getting hungry. The hunters had thrown him a meal before the long trip, but even with his training to go without during combat, a full day was a long time to go without food or water. He silently hoped his rescuers would bring him something before he had to go back to speak with Naomi. He tried to rub away the sigils closest to him, just the ones that hid his location, but the marker was permanent and did not smudge.

He waited.

Eventually even his joints began to ache, though he’d never experienced that before. His mouth was dry, and when he tried to sleep the ache in his stomach and back woke him. He angled himself around so his mouth could reach the sigils on his wrist and began to gnaw at the skin, hoping that breaking the lines could make him visible to them again. He managed to draw blood, and the lines were broken, but still no one came.

He waited. 

The sun rose and set again.

He waited. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, but he could not find restful sleep either. He drifted on the edge of unconsciousness, always aware of where he was, though not always aware of the time. Finally, finally, he heard voices. The hands that grabbed him were not soft and comforting, but rough and stern. He felt the bindings being taken off of the chair, but not from around his wrists. A voice muttered something about not being a delivery boy as he was hoisted over someone’s shoulder contemptuously. 

_ We're nothing but lost property they want returned.  _ He drifted in and out of a dream of Sabriel repeating that to him in the backseat of that car. He was too sick to know why.

When he opened his eyes he was being set roughly on his feet in a bright white room. He blinked, trying to focus on his surroundings, and saw Naomi standing in front of him at her desk, a stern scowl on her face.

“Well, look who decided to join us,” she tutted angrily. 

“I was...captured,” he sputtered out.

“Yes, we know. How many lessons have you been given on avoiding imprisonment? A dozen? Two dozen? Clearly not enough. We are fighting a war, Mamuel, we do not have time to clean up after your failure _ again _ . Did you give information to the Winchesters?”

“I...No,” he coughed. “I would never.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Regardless, we have put someone else on your mission,” she nodded behind him and he turned to see Anraziel smiling at him. “Anraziel took only hours to accomplish what you could not do in months. We have Destiel, and when you’re ready to fight, we’ll have Sabriel as well.”

“I’m...ready…” he croaked. He just hoped he could rest first.

She snorted. “You’re not. Clearly you do not understand the importance of what we are fighting for here. You’re going to have to be reeducated immediately, then maybe you’ll understand the danger you put us all in when you allow these  _ apes _ to best you.”

“I’m...sorry.”

“Not yet you’re not,” she spat. “Anraziel, take him to the training room.”

Now? He shivered. “Please, Ma’am, I need to rest.”

She laughed coldly. “You’ve had two days to rest in that motel room. Now, Anraziel.”

The other hybrid smiled and tugged him away from the office. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, Mamuel,” she singsonged. “This is why  _ I’m _ second in command. I know how to lead. You’ll always be welcome in my unit, once we get the smell of those filthy hunters off you at least.”

Mamuel stumbled, stiff legged and starving, into the training room. After he’d fought, he would face hours of interrogation in the white room to find out how his plans went wrong. His family welcomed him home with arms made of steel. He did not know better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I'm complete shipping trash, and I know I tend to see things that are not there, so I had a question for those who've been following the story up to now. Am I crazy, or is anyone starting to ship Sabriel and Mamuel? That was not the original plan I had for this story, Mamuel is just supposed to be Sabriel's foil, what he could have been if he was willing to submit to heaven and did not have Sam and Gabriel to guide him. The more I develop Mamuel's character though I find myself liking him more. Let me know what you guys think, I have a plan for the rest of the story but if I think there really is something there then it may influence it.


	11. Chapter 11

    Day one passed.

Day two passed.

Day three passed. 

Life in the bunker without Destiel was dark and impossible, as if someone had pulled the lightbulb from a socket but still expected it to work in their hands. We did not say much, we did not eat much, and no one was sleeping. Sam had retreated to what I had noticed was his go-to in stressful situations: research. He said he was searching for a way to arm ourselves, for a way to break through heaven’s closed gates, or for a way to just bring Destiel back with magic. He hadn’t found anything yet, but I knew him well enough to know he needed to keep trying. Kevin helped him as much as he could, but there was very little about heaven in the texts, and nothing about hybrids.

Dean was focusing on weapons. He was gathering every gun and blade in the arsenal and working on them, making sure they were ready at a moment’s notice. He insisted that security had to be stepped up; we weren’t off the radar anymore and they could be back any moment. He’d redrawn the sigils, but they hadn’t been foolproof before. Sometimes he’d disappear for hours with no explanation, and just tell us he was working on the problem. He wanted me to help him, but I was busy. I spent hours each day praying to Mamuel, Destiel, and any other angel that might hear me. I prayed for mercy, for a sign, for their ransom demand, anything I could think of, but they never replied.

Castiel was the hardest hit. He never left the chair he’d been plopped in, and he rarely spoke. Dean tried to get him into action a few times, and then just tried to get him to stand. He got more and more gentle in his approach to the angel. At one point he quietly tried to convince him to come to bed, which I knew was strange because Castiel did not need sleep. I’d looked up questioningly at Sam but he just smiled sadly and told me not to worry about it. Castiel had just shaken his head sadly, never taking his eyes off the floor. Dean began to sleep leaning against the bottom of the chair, when he slept at all. 

Day four passed.

Day five passed.

What were they waiting for? Gabriel was not able to help much. He figured they were trying to build up our anxiety, but that didn’t make sense to me. We were already broken, already willing to do anything; there was nowhere to go from here.

It was day six when Castiel spoke or the first time in probably fifty hours. Dean had been drifting in and out against the angels knees, when suddenly his hand came down and gripped Dean’s shoulder. Dean was awake in an instant. “What is it, Cas? Did you hear something on angel radio?”

Castiel just stared at him. “He’s turning three months old today. He’d look about eight now.”

Dean smiled sadly, shooting a look towards the rest of us to see if we were paying attention to them. We pretended we weren’t.

“Cas,” he said softly, placing a hand against the other man’s neck, “we’re gonna’ get him back.”

“When?” Cas snapped. “How? I’ve been trying to reach out to him for days, Dean. There’s nothing. He forgot about where he was born, how long will it be before he forgets us? They’ll make him a soldier and hammer out every bit of his personality until he feels nothing but loyalty to them! They did it to me!”

Dean let Cas yell at him. Once he was done the anger faded from his eyes and he was just a broken creature again. “Come with me,” Dean said gently. “Please.”

Castiel allowed Dean to pull him to his feet and out of the room.

We all tried to act busy. There was an unspoken agreement we’d all settled on not to talk about whatever was going on between them, at least until they had their son back. I flipped half-heartedly through a book written in Enochian which I could barely understand. The hours ticked by.

Mamuel’s voice came to me loudly, blaring inside my head.

__ _ “If you want the boy back, find somewhere to be alone. Tell no one. We need to speak.” _

__ I was up in an instant, muttering something about using the restroom as I left as quickly as I could without drawing suspicion. “ _ Mamuel? _ ” I called in my mind. “ _ I am alone. _ ”

“ _ You will come to Stull cemetery at sunrise, _ ” Mamuel said simply.  _ “Tell no one, bring no one, or the boy dies. Do as I say and he will be with me when we arrive. Disobey, and I will bring his body only.” _

__ _ “How do I know he is even alive?” _

__ There was silence for a moment, and then a different voice broke through.

_ “Sabe? Daddy! Can you hear m--” _ Destiel started. It cut off. I flew.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Dean pushed Castiel into the shower despite the angel’s insistence that he did not require grooming due to his grace. He was still covered in his own blood though, and Dean persisted. It wasn’t the way he had imagined seeing Cas naked for the first time, but he knew this wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. He threw the ruined clothes into a pile on the floor, hoping Castiel could fix them once he had his grace back to full power. Once the blood was gone, he found one of his old pairs of t-shirts and sweatpants and drapped them over the angel’s weak body. Dean pulled them quietly into his room and set Castiel down on the bed, then climbed in next to him.

Castiel waited a full minute before he spoke. “What are we doing?”

“We’re resting.”

“Why?”

“Because you need it. We both do.”

“I don’t sleep.”

Dean huffed. “When you’re wrecked, and you can’t think of what to do next, you rest. It’s what humans do. Then you’re more alert and able to think more clearly. Besides, Sabriel said you needed to recover from what those hybrids did to you. Might as well do that here.”

Castiel paused. “How are you so calm, Dean? This isn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you when Sam is in trouble. You run until you’re empty, then continue to push until he’s out of danger. Destiel has been gone for days and you can just lie here? Do you not...care for him as much?”

“Hey,” Dean grumbled, grabbing the angel’s shoulder. “He’s my son. I want him back just as much as you do. But you’re freaking out, and one of us has to stay calm until we figure out a way to take action.”

“Why?”

“Because Des would want us to. What if he came home and you were slouched in a chair, all covered in blood? We have to make sure he has a home to come back to.”

“And do nothing in the meantime?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “I uh...I have to tell you something. I’m sorry. I’ve got an angel in the basement.”

Castiel just stared at him.

“I thought he might have information on how to unlock heaven.”

“Dean, if lower ranking angels had access to that kind of information, I would know.”

“I know. The odds of him knowing are incredibly small. Even if it’s one percent though, I had to try. I found him too close to the bunker on patrol, and I got so angry. I beat the  _ shit _ out of him, Cas. He’s going to need to be healed and sent away when this is all over.”

Castiel seemed to consider it. “I forgive you, Dean. We will fix him when this is over.”

“That’s not my point. I mean, if you had been with me when I found him, you would have talked me out of torturing him. I need you, Cas. You can’t go all statue on me again.”

Castiel nodded. “Okay. I will stay with you.”

Dean slipped an arm under Castiel’s shoulders and scooted a little closer. They laid in silence for a while, and Castiel was fairly sure the man had fallen asleep. He was surprised when Dean mumbled in his ear. “I know you don’t use your room for much, but if you wanted to move your stuff in here I wouldn’t mind.”

Castiel smiled. He leaned his forehead against Dean’s and their hands found each others beneath the blankets. The door slammed open and Dean jumped away from Castiel like he’d been bitten. He was on his feet in a second. “Sam! What the hell?”

Sam’s panic seemed to fade into embarrassment for a moment, but he shook it off. “Sabriel is gone.”

“What? Why? Where did he go?”

“We have no idea. Kevin is doing a locator spell, but that could take hours. Cas, if the angels called him, where would they send him?”

The angel thought a moment. “I can only think of Stull Cemetery. If they wanted him alone, it may be for his fight with Mamuel.”

“They’re starting the apocalypse? Now?” Dean gawked at him.

“Maybe.”

“Can you get us there?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I am not strong enough to fly.”

“It’s three hours away,” Sam said, already leaving. “Let’s go.”

\---------------------------------------

It was dark in the cemetery. There were no streetlights nearby to cast light on the old gravestones. I hadn’t checked how late in was when I flew here, so I just sat against the old fence and waited. I knew where I was, and I knew what was coming. Gabriel had said the name enough times in my dreams. One of us was going to die here. I decided it didn’t matter. I’d chosen a long time ago to save Destiel over myself. My family needed him more than me.

My head hurt, and I was more tired that I should have been. I assumed it was Gabriel, trying to get me to talk to him. I couldn’t let him talk me out of this, so I ignored the ache behind my eyes. Slowly, after what felt like hours. The sun began to rise. I soaked up every moment, knowing it was going to be the last one I ever saw. Just as the warmth of the sun touched my face, they appeared.

Destiel was bound by thick ropes covered in sigils. His mouth was wrapped, but I still saw him smile when he saw me. Mamuel stood between us, a ghost of a grin on his face.

“You let him go, first,” I said, standing and stretching the strain from my muscles.

“He will be released after you are dead. I keep my agreements.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“Yes. We do.”

I took in the sight of my old enemy. He beamed with confidence, but I’d known him long enough to see the sunken hollowness around his eyes. I didn’t know what they’d done to him as punishment for failing to bring me in, but he looked emptier, like they’d pulled some unknown thing out of him. “I don’t want to fight you. We can escape, right now.”

Mamuel scoffed, pulling an angel blade from his sleeve. “You think I’m going to rebel? Now? I’m not like you.”

I nodded. I lifted up my bare fists.

“Where’s your weapon?”

I shook my head. “I don’t intend to win.”

Mamuel scowled, and then he was on me. He brought his blade down and I ducked low enough to miss it. My fist connected with his kidneys hard enough to stun him, and I tossed him back. He didn’t waste a second. I tried to move out of the way, but I felt an unforgiving fist slam against my cheekbone. Something splintered inside my face. He punched the same place again, and I fell to my knees. I dove forward and took him down at the knees. The tip of his blade slid across my back, deep, too deep. Once I had him on the ground I tried to pin him down, but he threw me off. He was stronger. Stronger than before, and stronger than me.

I used my grace to push him as hard as I could. He was tossed back through the air, but caught himself in mid fall, and flew back in front of me in an instant. I moved in time to let him storm past me, then I gave up a few precious seconds to turn to Destiel.

“It’s going to be okay, Des!” I yelled. I held my hand in front of me and focused intently on my grace, and lifted the boy as quickly as I could without harming him. I moved him back out over the gate, past the dirt road, and laid him, still bound, against a far tree. I thought I heard the crunch of tires on gravel, but then Mamuel was swinging his blade at my heart and I had to focus on avoiding it. I managed to move enough to keep him from landing a fatal blow, but the blade sunk deep into my arm, and I cried out in pain. There was a glow as I felt the power of the blade work, damaging my grace. I tried to fly away, but found I could not.

He used the moment to elbow me in the head, and I fell to the ground, my vision swimming. I thought I heard yelling, and I wondered if it was Gabriel in my head. If I was dying he’d be dead again too, and I was truly sorry for that. I squinted into the growing sunlight as I saw Mamuel’s silhouette step over, blade in his hand. He picked me up and tossed me against a gravestone. I used the stone to try to stand, but I was too dizzy. He stepped toward me, and the blade pulled back.

I heard the running footsteps before I saw him. Suddenly, there was Sam, jumping in between us. The hunter’s hand grabbed the arm swinging the blade toward us, but the angel hybrid was much stronger than a human. Sam’s arm snapped like a twig, and did nothing to stop the path of the weapon. It sunk deep into his chest.

Mamuel gasped and jumped back, leaving the blade stuck in the wound. I heard a scream and realized it was my own. I stumbled forward and caught Sam as he started to collapse, making sure he did not land on the blade and sink it deeper. Sam was staring away from me, straight towards the sky, and he was gasping as though he could not breathe. Dark red blood pooled on the blue of his plaid shirt and I heard yelling and running in the distance that I recognized as being Uncle Dean, trying to get to us as quickly as he could.

I could see that he didn’t have enough time. Sam would be dead by the time he reached us, and without my grace I could do nothing about it.

I grabbed the fabric of Sam’s shirt, unsure if I should pull the blade out or not. All my training had been in killing humans, not saving them. His eyes darted to me, but if he wanted to speak he did not have the ability. “Please,” I begged, feeling tears sting my eyes. “Please don’t die, Dad.”

I heard Mamuel come up behind me. He leaned over me and pulled the blade from Sam’s ribs and I winced at the sucking sound it made. This was it, my father’s sacrifice meant nothing. Dean and Castiel would be left alone to fight the apocalypse and keep Destiel safe without us. I waited for the blade to sink into my back.

Mamuel’s hand came past me and laid flat against Sam’s chest. I watched the unearthly glow surround his palm as he healed him. The hole from the blade was gone, and suddenly Sam was gasping for air, coughing out blood that had pooled in his throat.

I turned and stared at Mamuel. He was staring back at me, and his face was full of...fear? That didn’t make sense, but that was what it looked like. I silently asked him why, but he shook his head, the blade dropping from his hand. He backed away from me like I had threatened him, or like I was tainted with something poisonous he was afraid to catch. Then he was gone. He flew away without a word of warning, without explanation, leaving me kneeling in the dirt very much alive.

I felt hands on my injured back, and there was Dean, checking Sam’s pulse and searching for a stab wound. My adrenaline faded and the world went dark.


End file.
